Chat
by Vaughn's Jenn
Summary: an unlikely romance SV Please RR :A Jennfic:
1. Addiction and Interruption

**Chat**

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1. 

It all started a month ago. And now she is addicted. 

She scans the lines that pop up on the screen almost hungrily, wanting to merge, needing to become, the desire to change throbbing deep inside her heart.  She never takes a part in the discussions. She would taint them. 

So she only observes, a tiny name on the list of people, forever observing, forever wishing. Hoping against hope that her cell phone or pager won't call her away from this façade of life that she pretends to have. Normal life. 

_"__Sydney__… sometimes I just don't understand how you can do this." Michael shook his head, a grin splaying across his face. "You must have at **least** nine lives because that- that was absolutely incredible."_

_She tried to smile and share the enthusiasm that seemingly seared through his body but couldn't; she was drained, tired, and couldn't take looking at something that she wasn't allowed to have, to touch, or even to hold. Life seemed so far away and forbidden fruits were the last thing that she needed. _

_"—seriously __Sydney__.__ That was amazing. You're a phoenix, Syd. You're a fucking phoenix." He laughed and then hugged her, the sudden force of the contact surprising her and bringing her back, vitalizing her for one moment before the realization that she couldn't have this man, that he was untouchable to her, reached the very depths of her soul and she froze. _

_"__Sydney__? Is something the matter?" He's serious now and she knows that he too is fighting to keep control. She can feel his breath against her ear and she closes her eyes, wishing that it could be simple… wishing that all she had to do was touch his cheek to make him understand. _

_But she can't. _

_"I'm just tired Vaughn. I'm gonna go."_

_---you're a fucking phoenix __Sydney__. That's what you are. A bird that lives and lives and lives, burns up, is born again from the ashes, and lives and lives and lives. Destined to forever be alone unless there's another phoenix out there looking too. Another fucking phoenix—_

That was when it started. She got home and turned on the computer out of habit before she realized that she has nothing to work out, that for her accomplishment, she had been given a night off. 

And so, with a yearning inside of her to look into normal lives, to talk- no not to talk- to _listen_… for all the same reasons she liked to watch the people at the train station, she entered the chatroom.

BleedingPhoenix.

~:~

The soft ringing noise strikes her ears and she is confused for a moment before realizing what it is. Someone is talking to her. She should stop right now because her control is going to waver and she's going to end up like all the teenagers who are addicted to chatrooms but she can't because after a month of observation, someone who doesn't know who she is wants to talk to her.

And she feels wanted.

Because the person on the other side thinks she normal and that is the one thing that wants desperately to be. 

peoplesay: you never speak

BleedingPhoenix: excuse me?

peoplesay: i see you all the time. you're always there. but you never say anything.

BleedingPhoenix: maybe I don't have anything to say

peoplesay: everyone has something to say. everyone needs an ally

_"You might think you're alone in this. Like you don't have an ally. **I'm**_** _your ally. Never forget that."_**

She's frozen. 

BleedingPhoenix: Why do you care?

peoplesay: I'm curious as to why you do it and I've been thinking about it for awhile, analyzing you. It's an interesting hobby.

BleedingPhoenix:  i don't want to be analyzed.

peoplesay: I could tell. Here's what I think anyway. I think that you feel lost. like you're alone. so you pretend you're somebody else. 

_You're alone in this. You don't have an ally._

BleedingPhoenix: then why are you talking to me?

peoplesay: you intrigue me. And I think I like you. 

She's confused. This isn't what's supposed to happen. She's not supposed to undergo some thing to find herself… she's trying to—she doesn't even know what she's trying to do.

BleedingPhoenix: You're wrong. I'm not trying to be anybody.

peoplesay: fine. but you're sure as hell not being yourself. 

BleedingPhoenix: I could be being myself. How could you know?

peoplesay: because of what you do. You lurk. you disguise yourself because you think that otherwise, someone will hurt you.

BleedingPhoenix: you don't know anything. Maybe I'm nothing. I hurt others, not the other way around.

peoplesay: i may not know anything but nobody's nothing

BleedingPhoenix: you should stop talking to me. I'll probably end up destroying your life.

peoplesay: I can't stop.

BleedingPhoenix: why not

peoplesay: because you're bleeding.

She shuddered before she went to sleep that night. 

**TBC…**

Umm… I'm not sure what this is. If you figure it out, can you please tell me? The idea for the beginning and the end just came to me and it's pretty easy to guess the entire storyline and resolution but it's kinda creepy to me. 

Hoping it's just me~

Hope it isn't too terrible.

-Jenn


	2. It Could Have Been Thirty Days Of Consti...

**Chat**

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_wow__, thanks so much for the response… nice to know that it wasn't too creepy_

2.

She can't help but wonder whether he will be online today. She was never one to get sucked up in the world of the internet but ever since her discovery of extreme normalcy that went on continuously under her nose, she couldn't help herself. And now that someone has tagged her, identified her, analyzed her… she isn't sure how she feels about that. 

He's not online. She thinks that she should have been relieved that he's not here so that she can continue…spying –_always spying_- on the lives of others. She had thought that she was invisible. No one had noticed bleedingphoenix before. 

At first, she was glad.

But now she knows that the little trill that runs through her body is actually one of regret and disappointment. The idea of a man wanting to uncover her secrets with no idea of what secrets they may be is appealing to her. 

And Fate complies, perhaps for the only time in her life, and she sees his name blink onto the list suddenly… as quickly as it had sprung into her life. 

She waits tersely, wavering in silent conflict. _Wait for him. Make the first move. I told him I didn't want to be analyzed. But I want to be talked to. Talk first… he said he likes you. No, I want him to talk first. I could but I want **him** to. That's the point._

peoplesay: let me guess. you came online specifically in hopes that you would see me.

She had to laugh.

BleedingPhoenix: cocky

peoplesay: so i hear

peoplesay: so what's your name anyway?

  
She's a little too quick to answer, a little too insistent in her reply but it is sincere. She doesn't want this to be real.

BleedingPhoenix: NO

BleedingPhoenix: no names. ever.

peoplesay: when are you going to learn to open yourself up?

BleedingPhoenix: i doubt that you would be the person I would choose to release the torrents of my soul even if I want to. why should I let you in

peoplesay: because you want to. because it's easier to do it when there aren't names involved… I'm guessing that that's why you want things to remain nameless. there are things easier said when the other person is not going to judge, aren't there? 

BleedingPhoenix: you're not exactly a familiar person and I would like to inform you that your insistent attitude and persistent probing into my life is actually kind of scary.

peoplesay: would you like to start over?

She laughs. How can you start over when there is no beginning? Like… like with Vaughn… that didn't really have a beginning either. That had irritated her, mostly because they had both wanted to be in charge… with him being right. As he always was. 

_SYDNEY__: You said you wanted to talk about the plan. I'm giving you the plan. _

_VAUGHN: It's not your job to give me the plan. I'm giving you the plan. Tomorrow's your first day back at SD-6. Now, nothing should change. When you get your assignment, you'll detail your mission on a paper bag. Bag. Then you'll call this number. Memorize it. After three tones, press the appropriate digit -- one through six. Each corresponds to a trash can in a specific location. Now we'll review your information, create a countermission, and we'll contact you posing as a wrong number. Joey's Pizza. Any questions, so far? _

_SYDNEY__: Yeah. Can you show me what a bag looks like again?___

But thinking about Vaughn makes her heart hurt.

Thinking about Vaughn is what got her addicted to normalcy in the first place. 

BleedingPhoenix: I don't think we ever really began, stalker

peoplesay: stalker? What ever happened to Samaritan?

Her brow furrows. 

BleedingPhoenix: if you think I'm just some sort of project… I'm not a weak person.

peoplesay: you're not invincible either

BleedingPhoenix: why are you pretending that you know me? you don't know me at all and I don't see how you can presume to know a person's entire personality merely because they haven't felt like talking in chat rooms. I might have been constipated in the bathroom for all you knew.

peoplesay: every day for a month? that's some bad constipation. Here's some advice: whatever you're eating, stop eating it. 

She has to suppress her smile then and when she realizes that her cheeks hurt, she knows that it's been too long since her last smile… her last facial expression even. 

God she wished she had a reason to smile. 

BleedingPhoenix: funny. 

peoplesay: my one good quality I'm afraid. Everything else about me, I've been told, is creepy.

BleedingPhoenix: you have to admit that this is a strange… relationship

peoplesay: to clear things up, I'm not a stalker, liar, prostitute, God, Satan, an alcoholic, a druggie, mentally challenged, or out to get you. I promise.

BleedingPhoenix: or you could be a liar and lying.

peoplesay: do you think I'm lying?

Does she?

peoplesay: wow.. taking a long time to answer. I'm hurt.

BleedingPhoenix: I don't have a good enough base of your character.

peoplesay: go with instinct

She isn't even sure if she can trust her instincts anymore

BleedingPhoenix: then no. I don't think you're lying. But you should know that my instincts are just about shot to hell.

peoplesay: yeah mine too. 

There's a lull in the conversation and she wants to talk again because she discovers that in engaging in this, she has become normal. Not just pretending to be or spying on the normal. But one of them.

BleedingPhoenix: so… what _do people say?_

peoplesay: oh god. i was wondering when that was going to come up. Can I just bury myself right now?

And that does it. She's smiling. She feels engaged, involved, someone is about to tell her something that embarrasses him and feeling confided in is delicious. She can see now how frustrated Francie was. Great friend she turned out to be. 

BleedingPhoenix: No. you have to tell me. i can't wait

peoplesay: how bout I just tell you that it was a drunken drunken night?

BleedingPhoenix: hmm… I'll let you off the hook now but the story will come out sooner or later.

peoplesay: I'm sure it will.

She pauses.

BleedingPhoenix: By the way, I'm glad you're not God. 

**TBC…**

**Review please~**


	3. Beginning, Progression, End

**Chat**

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**3.**

She smiles when she sees his name pop up this time. She's only talked to him twice in the past two days and only for one of these did she genuinely like him... nevertheless, she begins to find that she trusts this man for a reason that she can't possibly begin to explain or understand for herself. 

BleedingPhoenix: Hey

peoplesay: hey

peoplesay: should i be honored that you said 'hi' to me first?

BleedingPhoenix: Yes. Very honored. Now shut up and tell me the story where you were drunk and somehow ended up with that screen name. 

peoplesay: I don't think that that's possible. How can I shut up and tell you a story at the sametime?

She can't help but smile. What was it about him really?

BleedingPhoenix: What is it about you?

peoplesay: i dunno... is there something about me?

BleedingPhoenix: yes. i don't quite understand it yet but I fully intend to. 

peoplesay: there's something about you too. Something that I can't really put my finger on but it's there somewhere. I think that's why I'm so intrigued by you. 

BleedingPhoenix: haha, well now that we have established that there is something about both of us, can we get to the story now???

peoplesay: no. Tell me something about yourself first. 

She has to pause at this because she, for the first clear time, has realized that she is actually getting to know this man... And that isn't what she had meant to do. 

God... what is she even trying to accomplish... she is lying. Again. And even if it isn't lying... She is still being_-becoming-_ someone that she isn't. Someone that she desperately wants to be. Someone that she will never be able to be. 

She doesn't even understand her own thoughts. 

BleedingPhoenix: well... what is it about me that you are dying to know?

peoplesay: what hurt you so badly that you felt the need to proclaim to the world that you were bleeding?

BleedingPhoenix: it's not much of a "what" as much as a "who". 

peoplesay: all right then. Who?

Yet another pause. This is a new start... Exchanging stories about drinking, being drunk, and wanting to be drunk is one thing... But to actually confide in this person... to tell him the one thing in her heart that had hurt her badly enough so that it would proverbially bleed forever and never scar... that is a different and new level all together. 

She shrugs mentally and then chastises herself for making her decision so nonchalantly. She_ should _keep everything inside of herself the way she was trained to and if she can't, she should seek help of someone who is supposed to listen. Someone who knows what to listen for and someone who will understand her problems. 

The thing is, she doesn't want to run off to talk with Barnett. She wants to talk to_ this_ man... this man that she refused to put a name to in her head. 

BleedingPhoenix: A man. Isn't it always?

BleedingPhoenix: he was the one man that I was finally able to place all my faith and trust into. The one person in the entire world who could understand my every action and reaction... the only one that I've ever wanted to hold me and never leave my side. 

peoplesay: and he did?

BleedingPhoenix: no. He just never had a side to leave.

peoplesay: jesus this is kinda complicated.

BleedingPhoenix: not really. I mean when you look at the entire spectrum of our lives, you start to realize that nothing is really complicated one piece at a time. And his piece was that he didn't think I was real. Or maybe even human.

Inwardly, she is screaming, screaming at herself for telling, screaming at Michael for letting her down, screaming at this peoplesay person for being able to pry down into the reaches of her heart. 

God. Michael. 

_"You... You look really pretty."_

_"You may think you're alone in this... like you don't have an ally..."_

Be my ally. Michael, that's the only thing I've_ ever_ wanted from you... The only thing I've ever wished for. That you could be my ally through anything and everything and not just a handler, not just a professional friend. To be able to hold my hand when I need you by my side... To- to care. 

peoplesay: what do you mean?

BleedingPhoenix: I guess I'm just too strong. Too resilient. Too... too distant. I'm just a person that no one can relate to because I'm so strong on the exterior that people just don't realize that just makes a person all the more weaker inside. And the inside is what counts after all. 

peoplesay: I can relate to you.

She has to laugh because it's not possible. No one can relate to her. No one can even guess. 

BleedingPhoenix: Who?

peoplesay: how do you know it's a 'who'?

BleedingPhoenix: because if you already had a 'who', you wouldn't be sitting here (there?) trying to heal someone you've never even met. 

peoplesay: Okay, so there is a who. But that's not surprising is it? Everyone has a who. 

BleedingPhoenix: you're evasive.

peoplesasy: yeah. Just because I can't find the words to- to fully explain her. She's just... so incredibly amazing that I don't even understand how words can... God I don't even know how to finish the sentence.

She feels her heart sinking. Because, despite the million to one odds that this wouldn't happen, not in a million years, she has enjoyed the prospect that it could. And hearing about this woman in his life is the equivalent of a door shutting in her face. Because anyone who loves a person like this... is not approachable. 

BleedingPhoenix: lucky her to have someone love her as much as you do. I could only wish for that kind of happiness. You know, after normalcy.

peoplesay: I think I'd take the happiness before the normalcy.

She hesitates. 

BleedingPhoenix: you can only say that once you've had a life that's not normal. 

BleedingPhoenix: Then you know.

peoplesay: I feel like this is a question I shouldn't be asking but 'know' what?

BleedingPhoenix: Know that without foundation, all happiness is dead, dying, or will die. 

BleedingPhoenix: C'est la vie. There is no beginning without order, there is no progression without beginning. So the only thing left is the end and that eats you alive for the rest of your life.

**tbc**

**More?**


	4. Till the Fat Lady Sings

**Chat****  
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4.   
  
'Till the Fat Lady Sings**  
  
Was it true?   
  
She thinks about what she wrote the day before because for some strange reason, she can't get her words- her own words-out of her head.   
  
_There is no beginning without order, there is no progresion without beginning. The only thing left is the end and that will eat you alive for the rest of your life._  
  
She isn't even thirty yet, it can't be the end already can it? Because despite her guards, her walls, her pessism, she still believes somewhere that this is all false and that there _will_ be some sort of happiness awaiting her. Even in those darkest moments where she starts to ponder her life and the importance of her life in the whole picture, she can't help but remember the little moments... and when she does, she can't help but smile.   
  
_She feels his gaze upon her back as she walks away and, after a moment of indecision, turns around. "Hey." Her greeting is soft, just as their greetings always are.__  
  
The same words in the same tone. A parody of normalcy but some semblance of it all the same.   
  
"H-hi."  
  
She has to supress her grin when she realizes that Vaughn, her handler, has just stuttered.   
  
They talk awhile about Emily and Page 47 and the words are swirling around in her head and she can't help but feel guilty for what she is supposed to do, what she has to do, but her mind is muddy and she can't concentrate until those words, those magic beautiful words, erupt out of his mouth and land in her ears. Surprising her.   
  
"You- you look really pretty."_  
  
She bites her lip, hating the fact that remembering his sweetness can lift her spirits despite the fact that the said sweetness was only that. And nothing more. And God, how she had wanted it to be more.  
  
But as she idly turns on her computer, she can't help but think that perhaps it's all right after all and that maybe people are right in saying that everything happens for a reason. Because in these past few days, the pain in her heart has dulled and the world is starting to come back into focus again.  
  
She is finally able to acknowledge that despite her best efforts, she _does_ still have feelings and that she probably never could have completely blocked them all out anyway.   
  
**Bleeding Phoenix**: hey  
**peoplesay **: hi.   
**peoplesay**: you know, I was thinking about what you said yesterday and I can't bring myself to agree with you. Despite all the logic that your words made and all the eloquence with which they were spoken, I still would rather have love and happiness that normalcy.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: are you willing to risk this love and happiness? Because that's what you're doing when you opt for that before normalcy. When nothing is anything, nothing is dependable and when nothing is dependable, _everything _can be taken away from you. No matter what it is, where it is. Nothing is safe.  
**peoplesay**: what makes you think that normalcy provides safety?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: maybe because I've never had it. The grass is always greener on the other side.  
**peoplesay**: what kind of job do you _have_? You're making it sound as if you... I don't even know what you know, I don't even know what I'm thinking.   
  
She hesitates, bites her lip. When she said that she didn't want to exchange names, it had been easy. But now, she _wants_ him to know. Because she feels as if he could help her. Heal her. Make her whole again.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: off limits.  
**peoplesay**: you know, you'll never be able to get this 'normalcy' that you're looking for if you never confide in anyone.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I'm not 'looking' for anything. I've given up expecting to find anything a long time ago.  
  
Should she have said that? God... Even though he had talked to her _because_ of her self-doubt, her self-loathing... her pitifulness, no man wanted to stay too long in the company of a woman who was never satisfied or fulfilled. Never happy.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix **: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so pessimistic. I just ... lately I haven't been able to control my felings and-  
**peoplesay**: don't worry about it.   
**peoplesay**: you actually kind of remind me of... the girl I was talking to you about.   
  
Sydney feels her heart grating against her ribs. This girl again. Why did all the men she wanted already have a love interest? She didn't want to talk about the girl.  
  
**peoplesay**: She's one of the most incredible people I've ever met. She's just...sometimes I feel as if she can weather anything. And yet, despite all of that, she still manages to be modest and beautiful and humble and just...just so _decent_ you know?  
  
Her lip is sore from her insistent biting.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Yeah.  
**peoplesay**: There's no one harder on her than herself.  
  
Freeze.   
  
_"Syd, there's no one harder on themself than you are."__  
  
Vaughn leaned over and gently pulled her nose with his fingers, grinning softly at her. _  
  
She shakes her head, ridding herself of that memory, willing herself not to mix these two men together. They are not the same. _They are different. I won't make one a rebound. As if there was something to rebound off of. _  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: i...gotta go  
**peoplesay**: drunken story next time then.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Umm yeah. Next time.  
**peoplesay**: Oh, and phoenix?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: yeah?  
**peoplesay**: Don't worry about the end. There is never an end until nothing else matters. Until you get what you want. Or until you get what is deserved.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings?  
**peoplesay**: Yeah. And while you're making an attempt at finding your end, I'll be here, trying my darndest to box up all the fat ladies. The ones with vocal chords anyway.  
  
  
**tbc****  
  
more?**  
  



	5. No More

**5. No More**  
  
She bites her lip because she is confused.  
  
Because she is scared.  
  
Because the one tiny line that bares in Arial size 10 font **peoplesay** has been illuminated for the past hour and yet it is still only that.   
  
Only a line. Only a name.   
  
And for once, she refuses to make the first move. She is paranoid that perhaps there is a reason that he is not speaking with her. That perhaps he doesn't like speaking with her, never liked speaking with her, and that all the novelty of meeting a new person has worn off and he has gone back into his own normalcy.  
  
She bites her lip because she is jealous.   
  
At least ten times already, her fingers have slowly driven the mouse over to his name, clicked twice, and then closed the box before writing anything. She doesn't want to disturb him if he doesn't wish to speak to her.   
  
So she finds herself back in Chatroom 621 "Oogachucka" listening to normal people talking of what flowers they think they will buy the next day or what dress was on sale, what the first words of their children were, how they are going to pay off their mortgage.  
  
She bites her lip because for the first time since her addiction, she is utterly bored. She is not needed. If she were to leave right now, no one would even notice.  
  
Except for him.   
  
She sees that his name has appeared at the bottom of the list. He is watching. Waiting to see if she still say anything or if she will merely stay bleeding in the sidelines alone. She longs to start a conversation, one lively and humorous which will make him see her personality and that, no, she hasn't grown dependant on their conversations together but her brain is numb and there are no words.   
  
So he starts one.   
  
**peoplesay**: what do you think about honesty?  
**fatfriar**: and then i saw THE dress in the window with a 50% discount! I'm SOOOOOO happy!  
**chanelOBSESSION**: honesty? Well... it's a virtue.  
**peoplesay**: but you should definitely be honest with a person? Especially if the person is one that you could potentially be interested in?  
  
Her heart rate is speeding up as she sits glued to the screen, unable to move her fingers, sitting frozen, immobilized.   
  
**princeHugh**: unless it has to do with cheating of course... You never want to talk about those.  
**chanelOBSESSION**: shut up hugh. Of course you should be honest. Hon, don't lie to people, the truth is always found and it always blows up in your face like a s*** bomb at breakfast.  
**fatfriar**: hahaha chanel. A s*** bomb at breakfast? That one's going in my scrapbook.  
**peoplesay**: what if the person doesn't lie, but she just doesn't open up?  
**whaddayamean**: whaddaya mean?  
**peoplesay**: Over the past couple of days, I've met this person and she seems funny and smart and intelligent but she refuses to share anything about her personal life, her career, even her identity.  
  
Her mouth is close to falling open. She knows that he is only talking to her at this moment despite the chatroomfull of people.  
  
**chanelOBSESSION**: she sounds like she has been hurt in the past.  
**princeHugh**: or she's kinky and likes things incognito.  
**fatfriar**: shut up hugh  
**whaddayamean**: shut up hugh  
**chanelOBSESSION**: shut up hugh  
**peoplesay**: she has. But the thing is that I _know_ that i should be with her and help her to trust me so that she will open up but I can also tell that she is stubborn and won't do anything she doesn't want to do.  
**peoplesay**: and despite the fact that I am almost ashamed to be saying this, I have to. I don't think that I have the energy to pursue her if she doesn't give me any hints or clues or even blatant facts as to who she is.   
  
She bites her lip because she is anxious.  
  
**peoplesay**: I want to know her. I do. But I've been hurt in the past too and i don't think I have the energy to go down a road without a map of any kind. I have to know something about her. Even if it starts at a hometown. Or a name.   
  
The light blinks out and he's gone.   
  
She bites her lip so that she won't cry.   
  
  
  
**tbc****...****  
  
More?**  
  
  
yech... ::shudders:: i think that that chapter was absolutely horrid and I'm sooo sorry for inflicting this crap onto you guys.   
  
i wish i could promise that i would do better but unfortunately, i think that I'm a complete and utter failure and I don't want to raise your hopes.   
  
Big surprise.


	6. If you Feel the Need

**6.   
  
If you feel the need**  
  
She takes a deep breath as she sits down, trembling as if she is about to go on her first mission all over again. The fear is the same, the consequences are not. The only risk here is the death of her own heart. Again.   
  
_She looked at him as she always did, thinking about the reality of things as they were coupled with the mirage that she held in her head, what she wanted desperately to be true. She watched from the doorway as he sat on the crate, leaning over the small file with that look on his face.  
  
The look that meant that he was serious, thinking, and above all, entirely business. The worry lines appeared on his face, somehow impossibly making him even more attractive to her. He lifted his finger and brought it to the paper, underlining a line with it as his lips wordlessly mouthed the words. Double-checking. Or perhaps triple-checking.   
  
It was then that he paused, to glance at the watch strapped to his wrist, a slight worried look coming over his face because she hadn't arrived.  
  
Truth was she arrived ten minutes ago. And had been unable to step away from the doorway.   
  
He looked around the warehouse and stopped, now seeing the dark silhouette outlined in the doorway of the warehouse. The one outline that he knew perfectly with every fiber of his being.   
  
Even in the slinky darkness she could see the light of his smile as his hesitant grin enfolded her, engulfed her with warmth and something spectacularly close to love. Her heart constricted with his soft words.   
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hi." And she couldn't stop her own smile. _  
  
She shakes the memory away because it is with the accompaniment of these thoughts that her heart alternately hurts, swells, and scars-steeling itself from all emotion- all over again-, making her internet escapades seem cheaper and less meaningful.   
  
It would seem so but she knows that it isn't true because in spite of the wrenching emotions that she still feels warring inside of her at the thought of the man that she had deemed perfect, her pulse quickens when her buddylist pops up. And the situation, though still comical when voiced, becomes serious and she feels, for some reason, whole again.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Los Angeles  
**peoplesay**: are you serious?  
  
Why wouldn't she be serious?   
  
Despite the fact that she has considered lying, considered passing herself off as a 23 year old lawyer named Katie Richter living in Austin, Texas... she can't do it. She can't lie.   
  
Not in the one situation that she doesn't have to.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: why wouldn't I be?  
**peoplesay**: no, it's just that... I do too.  
  
Her heart lurches almost as if it will come crashing through her chest. She is angry that he does because of the fact that she is not. She wants to be angry, she wants this to stay a game where she can merely talk and dream of a possible romance.  
  
The idea that this actually _might_ be feasible is unacceptable. She is furious that she might actually have a chance at a future with this man because there is now one more chance for utter failure.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: were you serious?  
**peoplesay**: about what?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: about you maybe wanting to-  
  
She stops mid-type because she has lost her words, doesn't know what to say, how to say it, if she wants to say it, if he wants to hear it.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: about you maybe being interested in me. Someone whom you have never met, mind you, and who might turn out to be the worst mistake of your life.  
**peoplesay**: deadly  
**Bleedinghoenix**: the most deadly mistake pf your life?  
**peoplesay**: no. I'm deadly serious.  
  
She bites her lip so hard she knows that soon it will bleed and so she stands up and lies down on the bed, releasing her grip on her bottom lip and instead covering her face with her hands, the cool bedsheets pressing against her back.   
  
See no evil.  
  
And suddenly she is more drained than she has ever felt after any mission, after any arguement, any warring with her own emotions... and she knows that this is because this sort of enervation has been eating at her for months. From the inside out. And now that she thinks she has spotted the cure, she can't help herself. She is utterly exhausted.  
  
It is in this pose that she falls asleep, blind to the world, blind to herself, and blinded to what is in front of her.   
  
Literally.  
  
**peoplesay**: are you still there?  
  
She curls up, cold in her sleep, into the fetal position, her face losing it's tension as confusion lifts and tiredness reigns.  
  
**peoplesay**: hello?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**more?  
  
Tbc...  
  
Are you there?  
  
  
Hello?**  
  
  
i realize now that the ending is kinda weird but i "felt" it when i was writing and now i'm "feeling" too lazy to change it... yeah.


	7. Open Wounds

THANK YOU BECKY FOR YOUR WONDERFUL HELP AND EXCELLENT AUTHORESS POWERS THAT YOU HAVE ALLOWED ME TO USE!!!!!!! THIS CHAPTER WOULD HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY HORRIBLE AND USELESS WITHOUT IT BECAUSE OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE JUST SPEWED CRAP. save yourself from the t-rex~   
  
  
**Chat **  
  
Open Wounds  
  
**January 14 **  
  
_The scars don't heal like they used to. They remain open to the air and bleeding…forever bleeding. Scabs don't form, new skin isn't created, and the memory of the original pain — the first pain — plagues my blood like a poison. It will forever flow through my veins, replenishing and revitalizing itself whenever it siphons past the wound, never weakening or fading away. It can be forgotten for a time…Oh yes, pushed to the very back of the dustiest, most deserted corner of my mind. But forgotten completely? Never. It is **always** there, like a dull ache at the base of my skull that can't be cured by a medical miracle. I can never get away. It's ever nagging, ever present. I can never get away.  
  
You know, they say that phoenixes are reborn out of their own ashes; that when they die, their bodies are consumed by flames but their souls are infused into another baby phoenix. Their tears have healing powers; their melodious songs have the ability to lift up any soul and give heart and wordless counsel to any who need it. They are immortal. They are said to be the wisest and most loyal birds ever to grace this Earth, mythologically or in actuality.  
  
But what if they're never reborn?  
  
What if they never achieve that stage of being?  
  
What if they spent all eternity getting hurt over and over again, the previous wound healing just enough so that the next blow wouldn't be the last, bringing them to the brink of destruction yet again? What if they spent all of eternity bleeding?  
  
Because that's what I am.  
  
A bleeding phoenix.  
  
I am the only phoenix ever known that simply cannot be reborn.  
  
The reason?  
  
I have been stabbed in the back in the one place where — no matter to what angle I turn my head — my tears cannot reach the wound. And I am voiceless. My torment is known to no one but myself.  
  
Perhaps that is the most painful of all. _  
  
She feels the tears sting her eyes as she reads this. She doesn't know why she is, doesn't understand herself at all. _What the hell are you doing __Sydney__???_ She still can't exactly explain what made her go hunting through her cabinet until she found the worn shoebox again.   
  
What made her take out her tightly locked blue cloth journal that was frowned upon by everyone in the spy business. It was never smart to keep a diary. But she had to let it out. And what she had to tell didn't involve government secrets. So she had rifled through her sock drawer until the tiny key came into contact with her hands. With it, she opened the book, completely empty except for one single page.   
  
Full of words.   
  
Words smeared with tears, words pressed so hard into the paper that it created indentations on the other sheets, words crossed out angrily, replaced with others, words written in different color ink because she got tired at looking at black, all words that she wrote thinking like an English student and not as a real person.   
  
Her eyes watered as she took in her writing. It had good flow. It did indeed portray her emotions in a way she felt would reach an audience. The style was clear, concise, and had examples from other texts, histories, and mythology. Written as if the author were penning a story. Not like a person with a broken heart. Even she could see how inhuman this depiction of her seemed.  
  
She had been looking for closure. As if reaffirming her anger at Michael Vaughn would be the equivalent of giving herself a blessing. A green light. It had been so long since she had consciously decided to open up her heart and allow a person a chance at possessing it that she wasn't sure what to do.   
  
She flips through the rest of the book, staring at the empty pages as if willing them to fill up with something that could serve as a sign.   
  
A sign for what she doesn't know.   
  
God knows she doesn't deserve love. Not when the only thing that will ultimately occur, whether she means it or not, will be its destruction.   
  
To hell with it.   
  
She doesn't want to be one of those old ladies that scowl at children playing soccer in the street. One of those ladies who creak in their rocking chairs alone in their gloomy rooms while stroking their ancient poodles or Siamese cats.   
  
She wants someone to be with her when this was all over and when the damage was done. Someone to hold her hand and help her through whatever is to become of her life. And if it doesn't work out, well, she would be right here again.   
  
She picks up a pen from her bed table and smooths out a page in the journal.   
  
**April 7 **  
  
_I will no longer look over my shoulder in an attempt to both stare down the demons that continually follow me and run from them. My life is what I have chosen it to be. Que sera sera.   
  
If it feels right, it will be made right. _  
  
She falters. The words are ugly. Badly-written. Not what she wants to say at all. She is retreating into the prose that she fights against. No more flowery words.  
  
With large, broad strokes, she marks a large **X** on the words.  
  
And starts again.   
  
**The Beginning- for nothing else- no date, no time, no place- matters **  
  
_Peoplesay I bleed.  
Peoplesay I need to confide.  
Peoplesay I'm hiding.  
Peoplesay they can help heal me. Stop my bleeding, let me scar, and start over.  
  
Peoplesay may not be God.   
  
But I am beginning to believe what peoplesay._  
  
  
  
  
**tbc…  
  
yes I know it's really short but oh well… it's also out 5+ hours earlier than I said it would be   
  
  
more?**


	8. Beautiful Morning

A/N: for those who wanted to know what the time frame was, I'm actually not absolutely sure. It's before Syd and Vaughn got together, it's alternate universe, I do use clips from the show… there's no "telling" and that's about all I can tell ya~  
  
  
**CHAT  
  
8.   
  
Beautiful Morning… Finally**  
  
  
  
She wakes up on her own, without the aid of any annoying ringing thing, and happy for the first time in a long time. It feels as if the constraints that have held so tight and hard on her heart are finally giving way. She thinks that now, she can begin to let Vaughn- or at least _the idea_ of Vaughn for she never really did have him in person- go and forgive him for not wanting her as much as she did him.   
  
She has never realized how much anger she has been living with every day.   
  
All because Agent Michael Vaughn followed the rules.   
  
But it doesn't matter anymore and she squashes the inevitable rush of hurt and humiliation flat before it can affect her mood and this strangely beautiful day. Saturdays did tend to be more clear.   
  
As if needing affirmation, she reaches under her pillow and looks at the page she had scribbled out the night before, wanting- no _needing_- to know that what she wrote last night was real. That she had finally confided… even if it was only to herself.   
  
**_The Beginning- for nothing else- no date, no time, to place- matters_**_  
  
Peoplesay I bleed.  
Peoplesay I need to confide.  
Peoplesay I'm hiding.   
Peoplesay they can help heal me. Stop my bleeding, let me scar, and start over.  
  
Peoplesay may not be God.  
  
But I am beginning to believe what peoplesay. _  
  
She can't help but shudder slightly.   
  
  
It's as if she's being set free.   
  
The light hum of the computer brings her back from her thoughts and she sits up from deep inside her comforters to listen to the soft humming and watch the screen glow from where she is sitting.   
  
And her heart stills.   
  
Because oh _Lord_ he's there.   
  
And she can't deny it now. Not when it's here blatantly in front of her. She can't deny the fact that her heart is beating faster and he eyes are a little wider and despite the fact that there is a screen and most probably an entire city separating them, she is now terribly conscious of what her hair must look like.   
  
She makes her way slowly over to the table, the sudden rush of cold air on her skin uncomfortable so she picks up her blanket and takes it with her, piling it all around her in her chair.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Hey  
**peoplesay**: hey!  
**BleedingPhoenix**: whoa there… why are you so happy?  
  
She's already feeling happier herself. That stupid grin that she tends to wear in certain situations- all of them which had previously included Vaughn- wouldn't leave her face.  
  
_"You… you look really pretty," Vaughn's words seemed to come out as soft as a whisper, eliciting a soft smile from her face as she grinned in utter happiness. _  
  
She shakes her head, rubs her eyes to keep them focused as she looks back towards the screen.   
  
**peoplesay**: well… why don't you take a look at who I'm talking to and maybe it will help to alleviate your confusion   
  
God. She's blushing. She's actually stupidly blushing because of what a [most probably] slobby, fat, unkempt, stupid, dull, balding man is telling her. Worst Case Scenario. Except that he isn't dull… and he isn't stupid either. And the other aspects don't matter, not at this point. And maybe that _is _all that matters. The chances of this happening are, after all, rather close to nil.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**:   
**peoplesay**: made you blush   
**BleedingPhoenix**: You don't even know what I look like.  
**peoplesay**: it doesn't matter.  
  
She laughs.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: it matters. At least a little bit.  
**peoplesay**: trust me. I'm not worried about it.   
  
She's unsure of how to react, what she's supposed to feel, how she's supposed to convey these emotions, if they can be conveyed, if they are meant to be conveyed in the first place.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: so what are you doing up so early anyway? It's ungodly.   
**peoplesay**: I mention the fact that you are also up at this "ungodly" hour, and I also have a secondary reason… I figured that since you went away so unexpectedly during our last conversation – in order to cushion the blow to the ego I will tell myself that you fell asleep- and so decided that if you fall asleep at such completely inappropriate time, then you might wake up at them too, no?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you woke yourself up at 5:30 in the morning on the chance that I might be here?  
**peoplesay**: you weren't last night.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I was going through some emotional stuff last night.  
**peoplesay**: closure?  
  
Her heart skips a beat. How does he know so much? Understand so much?  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: yeah, something like that.   
**peoplesay**: me too.   
  
It's completely illogical and even crazy but with the 'me too' it's almost as if she can hear his voice saying this, can hear the tone and the inflection, the key and range of his voice as he speaks to her.   
  
_  
"Me too."  
  
She looked over to him, a little confusion spreading in her eyes and throughout her gaze. "Me too what?"  
  
It was then that she noticed the tears coming near the surface of his eyes. He turned his head and looked at her, not bothering to hide them or hide from her. "I know what it's like to lose a parent too." His slight, sad grin was given to her and she could feel the floundering of her heart already. She wanted to walk over to him, to caress his cheek with her hand, hug him.   
  
Her own eyes watering, she nodded at him, sending him a smile of her own. And then she did walk over, enveloped him in her arms, watching and feeling as his body tensed and then relaxed, his arms coming around her back in mutual comfort.   
  
It was strange how well she seemed to fit in this space, as if the contours of his body were made for her to ease into. And it was right the way both were comforting one another. Inexplicable on method but so completely right. _  
  
She shakes her head of the memories. She has too many memories of Vaughn being kind and sweet, sharing, giving, and warm. If she thinks about them all, she will only be on the road to destruction again. With only her own heart on the line. Vaughn didn't want her.   
  
  
  
  
  
She was only a bird to him.  
  
  
  
  
  
She was broken out of her reverie with the sound of the little bells announcing a new reply.   
  
**peoplesay**: can I ask you a question?  
  
She feels her blood freezing up inside of her as this simple line pops up on her screen. Normally – if this situation could ever be contrived as _normal_- she would have replied no and stated that the asking of question was also off limits. The reason being that she was a wall and wanted to keep it that in order to protect both herself and whoever was trying to reach her. She wasn't lying when she said that she destroyed the lives of the people she loved. In the same way that they destroyed her. The way Vaughn had destroyed her.  
  
But the promises she made to herself are still clear in her mind.   
  
It's only when the consequences outweigh the risks that one truly knows who and what they are. What one can become. And this is what she is about to do. She turns around once in her swivel chair for no real reason at all than to feel the slight breeze whip across her face.   
  
And then she takes a deep breath.  
  
  
It felt like it was the first breath she had ever taken in her life.   
  
The first real breath she was ever conscious of taking.   
  
  
  
  
**tbc…  
  
more?**  
  
forgiven03: congrats on the puzzle solving~   
**elephants in a blue kazoo**  
LOVE MY FLOWERS and the people who were in the LIVE CHAT~~ hehe, 'twas fun


	9. Compare and Contrast

~Longest Chapter Yet~  
  
**9.  
  
Compare… and Contrast**  
  
**peoplesay**: can I ask you a question?  
  
She feels her blood freezing up inside of her as this simple line pops up on her screen. Normally – if this situation could ever be contrived as _normal_- she would have replied no and stated that the asking of question was also off limits.   
  
The reason being that she was a wall and wanted to keep it that in order to protect both herself and whoever was trying to reach her. She wasn't lying when she said that she destroyed the lives of the people she loved. In the same way that they destroyed her. The way Vaughn had destroyed her.  
  
But the promises she made to herself are still clear in her mind.   
  
It's only when the consequences outweigh the risks that one truly knows who and what they are. What one can become. And this is what she is about to do. She turns around once in her swivel chair for no real reason at all than to feel the slight breeze whip across her face.   
  
And then she takes a deep breath.  
  
  
It felt like it was the first breath she had ever taken in her life.   
  
The first real breath she was ever conscious of taking.  
  
~:~  
  
  
  
Her hands tremble slightly before she tells them to stop, that the simple asking of a question should _not_ cause the quaking of fingers.  
  
She has been on hundreds of missions, most of which required a lot more skill and should have been faced with a lot more fear but she has always been able to find some sort of strength inside of her- something that allowed her to be calm and able to do what was needed to be done. That quality was what had made her a good agent; she didn't feel like one now- not as her teeth alternately clench and unclench- she can swear that she feels her pupils dilating.   
  
  
  
  
_"Sydney, why are you so nervous?" Vaughn's concerned voice reached her ears and merely hearing that soft and mellow tone calmed her even as she felt her heart flip over.   
  
"I'm not nervous, Vaughn." She tried to affect a casually nonchalant tone but from the skeptical look on his face, it hadn't worked.   
  
He moved from her side so that he was standing directly in front of her. She moved her gaze so that it hit the floor. She could feel his steady gaze on her neck, her head, her down-turned face- and she also knew that he knew she could feel it. Stubbornly, she kept her gaze stuck to the cement, unwilling to lose, unwilling to bargain. She didn't want to look him in the eye because she didn't trust herself to be able to do so and stay the same person she had always been.   
  
But she couldn't help the way that she automatically looked up when she heard him call her name so softly that she had to strain to hear the word.   
  
"Syd."  
  
It was almost a whisper.  
  
When her brown eyes clashed against his green ones, she felt jarred- with both realization and affirmation and she couldn't help but look into the depths of his eyes, searching for the things she knew were visible in her own.   
  
Even as her lips were moving- as her face remained staid and calm- even as the words "Really Vaughn, nothing's wrong" reached his ears- she was searching. Searching, searching, searching.   
  
Her lips were moving and she was sure that in another part of herself, she heard his words and replied to his gently, probing questions… but her soul and her consciousness remained with her eyes.   
  
Concern she found easily, skepticism, wonder, confusion at her reluctance to speak, hope that she would, brain-wracking to figure out what the problem was, affection… and then somewhere, so far hidden in his eyes- the windows to his soul- she saw a glint. That's all it was, a glint of something she couldn't begin to define but hoped that it could be what she was looking for.   
  
She was looking for love.   
  
As soon as she saw the distant spark in his eye- perhaps the thing she had been looking for all along- she felt embarrassed, as if she had been caught trespassing or stealing from a loved one. She heard and felt the blood rushing to her face at the intimacy of what she had just uncovered…**might** have uncovered. She looked down quickly, suddenly finding the her shoes incredibly interesting- unsure of what to do, unused to not being sure of herself or not being in total control.   
  
And it was then that she felt his fingers come up softly under her chin, applying pressure and bringing her face back up, gently making her meet his gaze.   
  
"Syd," he began softly, "whatever it is, work-related or not, you can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything you want. Okay? **Anything**."  
  
Her vision seemed to get fuzzy around the edges at her words, she wasn't sure whether she could believe his words, whether he could possibly know what exactly his words seemed to connote. And denote.   
  
So instead, she shook her head of all the little scenarios that ran through her head and her imagination that all started with her stating, "All right Vaughn, I'll tell you what's bothering me. What's bothering me is the fact that I have to work with someone who I'm in love with but forbidden to have emotional and personal contact with. Being here, standing in front of you, watching you when you debrief me, listening when you speak, closing my eyes and smelling your cologne… **that's** what's eating me alive. Because I can't have you. But you're all I have."   
  
But because there were too many different replies she could have received…   
  
  
  
  
She stayed silent. _  
  
  
  
  
  
She can't let another opportunity go by.   
  
She can't let herself think about something she lost when there is something else right in front of her.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: yes. you can.   
**peoplesay**: how many people –that you loved- have you lost?  
  
  
Her blood freezes for a moment. That question was definitely not fluffed up.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: more than I care to remember. Looking at my record, I wouldn't be surprised if I've been destroying lives since before I was born.   
  
There is a pause after this, a long, drawn-out pause which she feels last an eternity. Or perhaps more.   
  
**peoplesay**: no, I don't believe that.   
  
For some reason, this statement makes her angry- just a quick hot flash of it before she can compose herself. It is the idea that he can't believe her that bothers her… that angers her and causes her to doubt everything that has happened so far. And it changes her.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: try.  
  
Another pause.   
  
**peoplesay**: But for all the lives you "destroy"… think about all the ones you make better.  
  
She shakes her head.   
  
  
  
  
_She shook her head.   
  
"Vaughn… I'm so sorry."  
  
He looked at her strangely- as if she had said something completely perplexing to his ears. As far as he knew, the mission had gone perfectly and Sydney had made it back without a scratch on her.   
  
"Sorry? Sorry for what, Syd?"   
  
She looked up at him, despair reflecting in her eyes. "I'm sorry for being here, for standing here, for my very existence because it obligates you to act professional and look at me."  
  
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Why should you be sorry for that, Sydney?" He nearly cracked a "You're not **that** ugly" but sensed that it was the wrong time. And perhaps the wrong person.   
  
When her voice sounded again, it was laced with a bitterness that he wasn't familiar with, wasn't comfortable with. "You don't have to pretend with me, Vaughn. I don't think I could take it if **you** pretended with me."  
  
He wanted to shake her, to bring her back to her senses. "Sydney… what are you **talking** about? Why would I-" he took a deep breath to calm himself down. "I'm not pretending with you. Now please- **please** tell me what's going on."  
  
She slumped onto a crate, holding her face in her hands for a minute before looking up in perfect composure- her eyes the only betrayal of her emotional state.   
  
"All I'm saying is…" she faltered, "all I'm saying is that I would understand if you were to resign as my handler. Standing there every moment we meet… having to make eye-contact when you debrief me- I must really make your life hell."  
  
His eyes widened in disbelief at what he was hearing, her words echoing inside his head. "I don't believe that Syd. You **know** that's not what I think. What could make you even consider that possibility?"  
  
  
She kept her gaze steady- as steady as her voice- as she replied, "When you look at me, you see my mother, don't you? And it kills you inside."  
  
  
His eyes closed in despair. "They told you on the plane."  
  
"Of course they told me. News about the identity of the mystery killer of thirteen CIA agents doesn't keep quiet. Especially not to her daughter. Or the son of the victi-"  
  
He took her by the shoulders then. "You didn't destroy my life, Sydney. You're not your mother and I **know** that. You've… knowing you has made my life infinitely better. Believe me. Please."  
  
Laughing in disbelief, she shook her head. _  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: and whose life have I made better exactly?  
  
  
  
**peoplesay**: mine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc…  
  
more??**


	10. Liquid Sorrow

_sunnE1: Thank you so much! Your words were so kind and meant more to me that one would think __J___

_tascha__: HAHAHAHAHAHAH! That was so funny! I can't believe that this little fic kept you up at work ;) haha, I hope you continue to enjoy it!_

_Spy Kate: Thanks! That was such a nice review that I just had to mention it while I'm doing this A/N_

_Egyptian Kat: How beautiful was you review? I was so touched and it sounds like I'm just saying anything but I promise that I'm not. Your review was so… wow~ I can't believe that you actually wrote it; I didn't think anyone could actually like this fic that much and I just wanted to thank you so much for everything you said. _

_Girldevil: haha, YES I am… and I'm not gonna stop._

_Speedy: BIG mike + big gun = WHIMPER~!!!!_

_To everyone else: thank you so much for all of your reviews. You don't know how much of an impact your reviews and encouragement have. I begin a story for myself but I continue it for you guys. _

**Chat  
  
  
10.  
  
  
Liquid Sorrow**  
  
  
BleedingPhoenix: and whose life have I made better exactly?  
  
  
  
peoplesay: mine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She has to stop for a moment to sort out all of her emotions.   
  
  
How…how…  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: How have I made your life _better_?  
**peoplesay**: some people have a way about them… some quality that's nearly impossible to define so I'm not even going to try. You have that.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: that doesn't even make sense. I've only been negative and depressing towards you… the only way I could possible have made your life seem better is by juxtaposing it with mine.   
**peoplesay**: yet it still is. Strange how things work out.   
  
**peoplesay**: So… L.A. huh?  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: erm… yeah… but I don't want to meet you. Not yet.   
**peoplesay**: HAHA! Well, that _would_ be a blow to the ego… _if_ that was what I was going to ask you smirk  
**peoplesay**: you forget that you might be incredibly presumptuous. I might merely be trying to make conversation. You're so arrogant, Miss Phoenix.  
  
  
She laughs.   
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: point taken. Though I highly doubt your case. "L.A. huh?" isn't exactly the greatest conversation starter of all time.  
**peoplesay**: well… I wasn't going for the _best_ of all time. I was just looking for one. And judging from what we're doing right now, I daresay that it worked.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: You're so proud of yourself. Pat yourself on the back, why don't you?  
**peoplesay**: Oh, I am.   
  
  
  
_"What are you doing?" She said, laughing.   
  
Vaughn grinned at her and moved his hands. "I was patting myself on the back, actually."  
  
She laughed again. "Are you being serious? My God… and why exactly are you doing this?"  
  
"Because I did a job well-done."  
  
"Doing…"  
  
"Giving my presentation on mission procedure and then coming here and seeing you back from another successfully completed mission resulting from a flawless counter mission." He winked at her roguishly.  
  
"You sure think highly of yourself, don't you?"  
  
"Well, someone had to." He put on a puppy-dog face and turned the corners of his mouth downwards.   
  
She rolled her eyes. "Vaughn, are you **seriously** playing the pity card? I mean, maybe your counter mission **was** flawed and the mission only went smoothly because I managed to rectify your mistake on the fly?"  
  
He paused, turning serious for a moment. "Did you really?"  
  
Laughing, she shook her head. "No. Your counter mission went to plan as usual. But while we are going on this little ego-boosting trip, I just think I deserve a pat on the back too. She reached her arm behind her, smiling widely at the sight of the spectacle they made.   
  
"Here, let me help you," he said, his voice suddenly a little softer as he hugged her. "You did great, Syd. I'm glad you're back," he whispered into her ear.   
  
She let herself lean a little into his embrace until his hands accidentally patted her bruise- a memento from her mission. She tried to muffle the little yelp of pain that coursed through her system, wanting to stay in this position forever- but he heard her sharp intake of breath.  
  
He pulled away, concern instantly clouding his eyes. "Where are you hurt?"  
  
"Don't worry Vaughn, it's really nothing, it's just a little brui-"  
  
"Where are you hurt, __Sydney__?" He was already stopping down to the floor, hunting up the first aid kit that was stored underneath a crate.   
  
"On my shoulder." She gave up her protests when she heard his insistent tone of voice and removed her jacket so that he could inspect her wound.   
  
He pulled back the top part of her shirt and released a long stream of breath as the large, angry bruise- already turning a dangerous shade of purple- came into view. "I guess I spoke too soon when I said you made it back without a scratch. I take my pat back."  
  
Pulling a bandage from the kit, he gently wrapped her shoulder.   
  
Watching him taking care of her with that intense concentration etched on his face, consciously making his movements gentle and painless made her heart swell even more with… with love for him.   
  
He look up, finished with his patchwork, and suddenly realized how close he was to her right then. Mere inches. The tension, coupled with electricity, seemed to swell in the room, or at least the ten foot radius around where they were standing.   
  
She unconsciously licked her lips, knowing that she should move but also aware of the fact that she couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want to.   
  
She didn't remember ever seeing his eyes so close before- didn't remember, or just never noticed, how the specks of gold littered the green of his eyes and how there was also a little bit of blue mixed into their depths. She willed him to kiss her, the only thing she remembered ever wanting with all her soul.   
  
His kindness, intelligence, and affection coupled with those looks made him irresistible and it seemed to her that time stayed still and froze for one never-ending second. If she strained hard enough, she could swear that she heard the faintest chords of classical piano in the background. The hurt from her injury had gone- long-since vanished. Healed with the heat of his eyes.  
  
Her head moved almost imperceptibly, suddenly a millimeter closer to his of its own will…  
  
But he cleared his throat and backed away awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Good job with the mission, Sydney."  
  
  
She crumbled inside. "Thanks." _  
  
  
  
She's crying, the words on the screen are becoming blurry and illegible to her eyes and the pain she feels in her heart is not metaphorical any longer. Her whole body is consumed with a sadness so real that she swears it could be tangible. All emotion radiates outward from her ribs and her breathing is labored and catching as liquid sorrow courses down her cheeks.   
  
She is ashamed of herself- half ashamed because she cannot help herself, can't control herself, and also because she cannot stop thinking about Michael Vaughn.  
  
  
She can't stop loving him enough to hate him, to get over him.   
  
  
She cannot keep a promise that she made to herself less than 24 hours earlier.   
  
  
Her entire body is tingling, screaming "Vaughn" from every pore, every cell, and she's shaking, unable to contain and maintain the world around her.   
  
  
Angrily she dries her eyes and gazes at the screen forcefully.  
  
  
  
**peoplesay**: agh—phone call. I'll be right back.  
**peoplesay**: sorry- I have to go.  
**peoplesay**: I'll see you later. Bye~  
**peoplesay is no longer available **  
  
  
The phone rings, disturbing her thoughts. She walks over to it and picks it up lifelessly.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****…  
  
  
more???**  
  
  
  
**see how i made up for my procrastination by making this chapter longer???  
  
  
  
repeat after me: Finally! Some REAL s/v action~  
  
worth it?****

**Chat  
  
  
10.  
  
  
Liquid Sorrow**  
  
  
BleedingPhoenix: and whose life have I made better exactly?  
  
  
  
peoplesay: mine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She has to stop for a moment to sort out all of her emotions.   
  
  
How…how…  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: How have I made your life _better_?  
**peoplesay**: some people have a way about them… some quality that's nearly impossible to define so I'm not even going to try. You have that.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: that doesn't even make sense. I've only been negative and depressing towards you… the only way I could possible have made your life seem better is by juxtaposing it with mine.   
**peoplesay**: yet it still is. Strange how things work out.   
  
**peoplesay**: So… L.A. huh?  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: erm… yeah… but I don't want to meet you. Not yet.   
**peoplesay**: HAHA! Well, that _would_ be a blow to the ego… _if_ that was what I was going to ask you smirk  
**peoplesay**: you forget that you might be incredibly presumptuous. I might merely be trying to make conversation. You're so arrogant, Miss Phoenix.  
  
  
She laughs.   
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: point taken. Though I highly doubt your case. "L.A. huh?" isn't exactly the greatest conversation starter of all time.  
**peoplesay**: well… I wasn't going for the _best_ of all time. I was just looking for one. And judging from what we're doing right now, I daresay that it worked.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: You're so proud of yourself. Pat yourself on the back, why don't you?  
**peoplesay**: Oh, I am.   
  
  
  
_"What are you doing?" She said, laughing.   
  
Vaughn grinned at her and moved his hands. "I was patting myself on the back, actually."  
  
She laughed again. "Are you being serious? My God… and why exactly are you doing this?"  
  
"Because I did a job well-done."  
  
"Doing…"  
  
"Giving my presentation on mission procedure and then coming here and seeing you back from another successfully completed mission resulting from a flawless counter mission." He winked at her roguishly.  
  
"You sure think highly of yourself, don't you?"  
  
"Well, someone had to." He put on a puppy-dog face and turned the corners of his mouth downwards.   
  
She rolled her eyes. "Vaughn, are you **seriously** playing the pity card? I mean, maybe your counter mission **was** flawed and the mission only went smoothly because I managed to rectify your mistake on the fly?"  
  
He paused, turning serious for a moment. "Did you really?"  
  
Laughing, she shook her head. "No. Your counter mission went to plan as usual. But while we are going on this little ego-boosting trip, I just think I deserve a pat on the back too. She reached her arm behind her, smiling widely at the sight of the spectacle they made.   
  
"Here, let me help you," he said, his voice suddenly a little softer as he hugged her. "You did great, Syd. I'm glad you're back," he whispered into her ear.   
  
She let herself lean a little into his embrace until his hands accidentally patted her bruise- a memento from her mission. She tried to muffle the little yelp of pain that coursed through her system, wanting to stay in this position forever- but he heard her sharp intake of breath.  
  
He pulled away, concern instantly clouding his eyes. "Where are you hurt?"  
  
"Don't worry Vaughn, it's really nothing, it's just a little brui-"  
  
"Where are you hurt, __Sydney__?" He was already stopping down to the floor, hunting up the first aid kit that was stored underneath a crate.   
  
"On my shoulder." She gave up her protests when she heard his insistent tone of voice and removed her jacket so that he could inspect her wound.   
  
He pulled back the top part of her shirt and released a long stream of breath as the large, angry bruise- already turning a dangerous shade of purple- came into view. "I guess I spoke too soon when I said you made it back without a scratch. I take my pat back."  
  
Pulling a bandage from the kit, he gently wrapped her shoulder.   
  
Watching him taking care of her with that intense concentration etched on his face, consciously making his movements gentle and painless made her heart swell even more with… with love for him.   
  
He look up, finished with his patchwork, and suddenly realized how close he was to her right then. Mere inches. The tension, coupled with electricity, seemed to swell in the room, or at least the ten foot radius around where they were standing.   
  
She unconsciously licked her lips, knowing that she should move but also aware of the fact that she couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want to.   
  
She didn't remember ever seeing his eyes so close before- didn't remember, or just never noticed, how the specks of gold littered the green of his eyes and how there was also a little bit of blue mixed into their depths. She willed him to kiss her, the only thing she remembered ever wanting with all her soul.   
  
His kindness, intelligence, and affection coupled with those looks made him irresistible and it seemed to her that time stayed still and froze for one never-ending second. If she strained hard enough, she could swear that she heard the faintest chords of classical piano in the background. The hurt from her injury had gone- long-since vanished. Healed with the heat of his eyes.  
  
Her head moved almost imperceptibly, suddenly a millimeter closer to his of its own will…  
  
But he cleared his throat and backed away awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Good job with the mission, Sydney."  
  
  
She crumbled inside. "Thanks." _  
  
  
  
She's crying, the words on the screen are becoming blurry and illegible to her eyes and the pain she feels in her heart is not metaphorical any longer. Her whole body is consumed with a sadness so real that she swears it could be tangible. All emotion radiates outward from her ribs and her breathing is labored and catching as liquid sorrow courses down her cheeks.   
  
She is ashamed of herself- half ashamed because she cannot help herself, can't control herself, and also because she cannot stop thinking about Michael Vaughn.  
  
  
She can't stop loving him enough to hate him, to get over him.   
  
  
She cannot keep a promise that she made to herself less than 24 hours earlier.   
  
  
Her entire body is tingling, screaming "Vaughn" from every pore, every cell, and she's shaking, unable to contain and maintain the world around her.   
  
  
Angrily she dries her eyes and gazes at the screen forcefully.  
  
  
  
**peoplesay**: agh—phone call. I'll be right back.  
**peoplesay**: sorry- I have to go.  
**peoplesay**: I'll see you later. Bye~  
**peoplesay is no longer available **  
  
  
The phone rings, disturbing her thoughts. She walks over to it and picks it up lifelessly.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****…  
  
  
more???**  
  
  
  
**see how i made up for my procrastination by making this chapter longer???  
  
  
  
repeat after me: Finally! Some REAL s/v action~  
  
worth it?


	11. Unsure

**CHAT  
  
11.  
  
Unsure**  
  
  
She walks into the doorway without lifting her head because she knows that she doesn't need to. The atmosphere in this room is immensely different than the feeling of any other room she has ever been in.   
  
And she knows in every pore of her that this is only because it is only this room, at this moment, that contains one very important component.   
  
Michael Vaughn.   
  
She doesn't have to look up when she enters the room because she _knows_ he's there. She can feel him.   
  
She finally lifts her head, her eyes purposefully dodging his gaze. "Hey." His soft greeting- the only thing about him that she doesn't see differently- echoes in the room.   
  
"Hi." Her reply is clipped.   
  
"Well, I'm sorry that it's so late-"  
  
"-That's all right"  
  
"-but," he looks at her strangely before moving on, "But news came up about the mission in Peru."  
  
He can see her mind clicking away, remembering the facts and details of that Peruvian mission, trying to figure out what more could have been done or what could possibly have been deduced. This is the aspect of her that perhaps fascinates him the most. The way she throws herself into her thoughts and how her concentration becomes utterly evident and enticing across her face. She gives up. "What new information?"  
  
"Remember how at 10, the heli-"  
  
"-Vaughn?"  
  
He looks up from his file. "Yes?"  
  
"Could you stand up for a second?"  
  
He looks confused but obliges her and stands. "Sure... why?"  
  
He is standing up now, directly in front of her just like she remembers and she is painfully aware of the fact that she has to look up to see his face- that he is always so much more handsome than she can remember perhaps not just because of forgotten features but because of the look of perfect empathy always in his eyes that she just can't seem to fully emulate in her thoughts.  
  
He looks at her, uncomfortable. "Sydney, what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm just seeing..."  
  
"Seeing what?"  
  
She shakes her head a little, smiling softly, a slight embarassed flush crawling along her cheekbones. When she speaks, the words are spoken hushed and towards the ground. "I just wanted to be sure of you."  
  
Her answer answers nothing and the furrows in his forehead deepen. "Are you alright?"  
  
It is strange how people are only aware of her when she is hurt.  
  
**_  
BleedingPhoenix_**_: you should stop talking to me. I'll probably end up destroying your life.  
**peoplesay**: I can't stop.  
**BleedingPhoenic**: why not?  
**peoplesay**: because you're bleeding. _  
  
  
"Nothing's wrong with me, Vaughn." She looks up, her gaze potently meeting his. "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
"I told you before you could talk to me about **anything**, Syd. Work-related or not."  
  
She nods slowly, stops, shakes her head, and meets his gaze-looking at him. "Nevermind, It's not important."  
  
He raises his eyebrows, giving her a dubious look but gives her a little nod of his own before he continues.   
  
Her mind is moving with his, listening to his words and taking them in even as she is rememorizing the tone of his voice and the texture of his hands. The tracking device she had placed inside the briefcase of Leif Marshall has been activated and he is currently making his way towards the South of France. That is what he is saying to her. These are the words coming from his mouth, not the ones she has been longing to hear for months now.   
  
The words are wooden as they come from her mouth. Her ambition has been drained from her a long time ago but she keeps on going, keeps on fighting for God knows what reason.   
  
Maybe it's because- despite the chaotic hours, the danger of the missions, the adrenaline that never ceases to pump through her systen and illuminate her entire body- life with the CIA is normal. It's routine that there is no set routine. She may not know when or where or even who but she is still always in control.   
  
When did she lose it all?  
  
Her work is the _only_ thing she has control over now. "What's in South France?"  
  
His brow furrows again as he fingers the pages, wearing out the edges until they are thin and fragile and soft to the touch. One of the many habits about him that she had loved.   
  
  
_She watched him silently as she sat on the crate, watching as his delicate fingers ruffled and strummed the papers in the file, watching as tiny flecks of the edges flew off with each tiny flick and drifted towards the ground. It was always obvious which files belonged to Michael Vaughn.   
  
She felt his gaze on her head, her face, as he spoke, his words careful and measured, unsure of how to read her emotions and mood.   
  
He knew it was awkward, could not deny that until yesterday, he could not have stated plainly with absolute conviction which he would choose, given the choice: loyalty to his country and, ultimately, to his father's memory... or love with Sydney.   
  
And yesterday, it had been made. He was still doubting, still questioning, still beating himself up pver the look of hurt and utter humiliation in her eyes... but now he knew.   
  
It was unbelievable to think that the kiss had only been yesterday. The lack of kiss. The un-kiss to be exact.   
  
She hadn't lifted her had, hadn't stopped looking at his hands. He looked downwards and saw the slow and quiet shredding of the paper and stilled his movements, flushed.   
  
**He's shredding the paper like he's shredding me. Slowly and unintentionally. But he is.**_  
  
  
  
"We have certain ideas and clues and we think that Rambaldi might have hinted at it at some point but we are still trying to figure it out. "  
  
She nods. "Keep me posted." She turns to walk away and out of the warehouse, back to her car, back into the safety of her home but is stopped by the sound of his voice before she can take three steps.   
  
  
"Are you?"  
  
  
She turns slowly, confusion lighting her eyes. "Am I _what_?"  
  
  
His eyes burn into her, a desperation longing for knowledge and something else... an undefinable sweetness is searing through her.  
  
  
"Are you sure of me?"  
  
  
She smiles softly and kisses him on the cheek. The expression and motion indicate _"Always"_.  
  
But the three words rolling around in her head are  
  
  
**I  
  
  
  
  
  
DON'T  
  
  
  
  
  
KNOW**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
tbc...  
  
  
  
  
more??  
  
  
  
  
  
  
-jenn

Quick enough for you??? Lol… you guys DO know that reviews spur me on right? As in more reviews= more chapters in a quicker amount of time… not that I'm black-mailing you or anything… it does seriously motivate me ;)

Thank you all so much for all of your wonderful reviews so far… you don't know how happy they make me J


	12. Bring Me to Life

**Chat  
  
12.  
  
Bring Me to Life Part One**  
  
*The lyrics of Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life" are used in this chapter*  
(Which is also the recommended song to listen to when reading the chapter)  
  
  
[think angst. think desperation]  
  
  
**Now that I know what I'm without   
You can't just leave me  
Breathe into me and make me real  
  
Bring me to life  
  
Wake me up inside  
Wake me up inside  
Call my name and save me from the dark  
Bid my blood to run  
Before I come undone  
Save me from the nothing I've become  
Bring me to Life  
  
Frozen inside  
Without your touch  
Without your love  
Darling, only you are  
The Life among the Dead  
  
All this time I can't believe I couldn't see  
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me  
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems  
Got to open my eyes to everything  
Without a thought  
Without a voice  
Without a soul  
Don't let me die here  
There must be something more  
  
Bring  
  
Me  
  
To   
  
Life**  
  
  
  
_~:~  
  
The darkness crowds over everything, resides everywhere, is crawling and smothering and choking the life out of me.   
  
But just as it is strong, it is also intangible. My movements, my struggle, my fighting is useless, pointless, absurd. Because everything goes through the mist unharmed and lacking any power.  
  
And I have never felt so utterly helpless in my life. My mind has left me. My heart has left me.   
  
  
And I'm ready to give up.  
  
  
There seems to be no point in struggling against something you can't fight back. In something that is forever stronger than you, something that makes you feel more alone than you have ever been before.  
  
There is no point to living if this is what life is.   
  
There is no point to breathing if there is no sweetness in the air.  
  
There is no point to feeling when all you feel is pain.  
  
There is no point to wishing things could change when you know in the deepest portions of your heart that it will not change. That it cannot change. That it would not change.  
  
There is no point to living if **this** is what life is.  
  
And so I take my breath- presumably my last- and I close my eyes and black mist swirls instantly, rushing in over my head and eyes and body and it's cold and I'm more tired than I've ever been in my entire life and I'm ready to let it all go-  
  
When I see a break in the darkness and a part of my soul is screaming at me and telling me to ignore it, to let go, to finally leave all struggles behind. But it's a hand, masculine and strong, backed by a voice so pleading and full of love that I can't help lifting and opening my mouth to ask a question...  
  
And sweet air rushes in and I open my eyes to blinding brightness and the silhouette of a man so utterly familiar to my very being.  
  
So familiar that I cannot place him.  
  
~:~ _  
  
  
The air rushes into her mouth and her lungs as sweet as... as... as nothing she has ever known before. There are no words to describe the feeling of utter relief and amazement that one feels when it is realized that one is still alive. And there is no telling just how sweet that first breath of fresh air feels when it reminds the rest of the body that it is still functioning.  
  
That it can still feel.  
  
She wants to know what hand it was- whose hand it was that brought her back-  
  
_  
Wake me up inside  
Call my name and save me from the dark  
Bid my blood to run  
Before I come undone  
Save me from the nothing I've become  
  
**Bring me to Life**_  
  
  
  
Flushed and energized with a sort of crazy frenzy, she pushes off the covers, throws them away from her and jumps off of the bed, racing to the computer and turning it on. Moving so quickly that she is dizzy.  
  
Filled with an emotion that she can only call desperation.  
  
She doesn't know what she will do if he isn't there.  
  
He has to be.  
  
For her.  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: tell me one thing.  
**peoplesay**: hello to you to and okay.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: tell me what your hands look like.  
**peoplesay**: what?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Why are you talking to me?  
**peoplesay**: What?!  
**peoplesay**: I believe that you started this conversation- because you asked me to tell you something.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: No. NO That' not what i mean.  
**peoplesay**: are you okay?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I mean why **do** you talk to me? What compelled you to ever start speaking to me? What? BEcause I wasn't talking? BEcuase you felt sorry for me? WHat?  
  
Her fingers fly across the keyboard, becoming a blur to her eyes. She feels like crying, screaming, laughing, knowing.  
  
Knowing.  
  
She has to know.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**this**** is the end of the first [half?] of the 12th chapter. Was it okay? Let me know if I can fix anything.  
  
To those of you who asked: Yes... Vaughn DOES do something that makes Syd so hurt and angry at him and it's not that he didn't do anything (i.e. kissing her). It's pretty bad. And I haven't written it yet but i plan to do it soon... maybe in the next half of the chapter.  
  
Sorry if only giving half of a chapter messed up the flow and the ending sucked or something. If it did... don't think of it as an ending.   
  
Thanks~  
  
  
tbc...  
  
  
more?  
  
  
-jenn**

  
*now with the continuation of the chapter (with the original half quoted for your viewing and refreshing ease *  
  
**peoplesay**: hey... hey... calm down, okay?  
  
It's almost as if she can hear his voice in her head, as if her body is listening and reacting already because she can hear the soothing tones and loving words.  
  
And then she realizes that she has.  
  
_  
  
"__Sydney__... __SYDNEY__! Please calm down... **please**," the voice is pleading with her despite the fact that there is a note of frenzy in his voice too.   
  
She struggled against his grip, tears flooding down her face in great rivers, distorting her vision. Voice erupting from her already parched and burned throat, she screamed, "No... NO! Let me **go**- let me go..." She pounded against his chest, forcing him to envelop her whole body into his arms so that she couldn't hurt him. Or herself.   
  
She screamed into his chest, the moves from a hundred different martial arts flashing through her head. She could have him flat on his back in a second if she wanted.   
  
But that was the question.  
  
Did she?  
  
She didn't let herself answer... didn't allow herself to think, in any part of her, that she might want to stay in his arms rather than go back.   
  
She had to go back.  
  
Futile though it was, she squirmed against his grasp and grip, finally giving up and sweeping her leg until it came crashing into his own. Forcing him to fall on his back with a loud thud onto the pavement.   
  
She ran back into the building, hearing his shouts in her ear. "__Sydney__! Wait! Stop!- don't go back in there!"  
  
Her jaw clenched in concentration- blocking out his voice was harder that she thought it would be. She **knew** that their mission had failed, **knew** that there was no intelligence in her decision to go back in there when there was basically no chance that she would make it back out unscathed.  
  
But she also knew that her father was in there and that he needed her. So she had to go.   
  
The room was dark and her footsteps hit the tile with a thud that echoed eerily throughout the hall, as if there was no one else in the entire building. Staying close to the wall, bathed in shadows, she inched along its borders, tensed and coiled, ready to fight.   
  
But nothing happened.   
  
She heard the approach of another person behind her, knew instinctively that it was Vaughn because she had known, even as she was running from him, that he would follow her. That he would watch her back, keep her safe.  
  
  
Her guardian angel.  
  
  
He was so close to her now that she could feel the heat and nervous energy coming off his body next to her.   
  
"Syd?"  
  
It was only a whisper.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you know where we're going?"  
  
"No. If I did, we would already be there."  
  
"All right then."  
  
  
Then all sensation dimmed, blurred, and was lost with the feel of rough cloth.   
  
She struggled for a moment and heard Vaughn fighting next to her but it was no use. The hands holding the cloth to their mouths were strong.  
  
  
And they were out within the minute.  
  
  
The world was black.   
  
And then  
  
There was no world._  
  
  
  
  
  
**...hmmm...... how did you find that??? Was it okay?  
  
well... if it was {hopes that it was} fasten your seatbelts... the next two chapters (at least) will be in flashback format... to fully explain what Vaughn did as opposed to having it just come out in conversation or dialogue or something and have it mean less.  
  
  
[crosses fingers] i'm trying to internalize... "mentalize"...personalize...i have to shut up....[/crosses fingers]******

**hey**** you guys…THIS IS A QUICK A/N: I would LOVE to have 20 reviews for this chapter… I know that this makes me sound greedy and mean but after this chapter, I don't have any more ready prepared (yes, I admit it… I had another site where I updated a TEENSY bit faster and with my hectic opera schedule *I'm going to be in _La Damnation de Faust with the _****L.A.**** Opera with Placido Domingo!!! [ends the annoying bragging]* and so if you could, reviews ARE a huge motivation and inspiration. **

**I've gotten complaints before that asking for reviews was really cheap and that a person didn't need to get reviews in order to write. That's true but what is ALSO true is that though a person writes first for him/herself, when they decide to take the risk and put it somewhere where people can see it, response is a really nice gift. I'm DEFINITELY NOT complaining about the response I've gotten so far… you guys are all too wonderful for me. This paragraph was just an explanation for past experiences… anyway, I'll shut up now. *prays that they don't think I'm a bitch…***

**Thanks for reading and liking this little fic~**

**-jenn**


	13. Cold Stone Floor

**Title: Chat  
Author: Jennyfer  
Rating: PG-13  
Ship: S/V, S/peoplesay  
Chapter: 13   
Title: Cold Stone Floor  
Dedications:   
Shammi and JoJo: I am so sorry that you guys were never put on the PM list! I definitely thought that you were and also cannot believe that you still had the perseverance to keep on reviewing... yikes~ I'm sorry, and you definitely deserve this one (not that it's some sort of great honor or anything, i just wanted to let you know that I didn't purposefully forget about you... i probably forgot to press "Update" after adding you sorry )  
my ZAP-ers: haha, now that we've all decided to be good and finally remember to read each others stories and etc, I have had much less free time on my hands Thanks.  
*at ff.net* Kat: haha, here's another one for you We're dorks but we have fun~  
  
  
  
And Finally:   
  
~:~The Chapter~:~  
  
  
  
Cold Stone Floor**  
  
_  
  
She woke up because of the heat.  
  
She felt the slow warming of her face while she had been sleeping and it had only intensified until the warmth was absorbed into the floor and burned the other side of her face too.  
  
She coughed once and then one more time, her throat too dry to do anything else but. She could feel her vocal chords burning as her mind urgently attempted to recall what had happened to her. Her eyes were still closed, knowing that the light would hurt.   
  
Knowing that once she did open them, she would discover that she was alone.   
  
And that had been the one thing she had remembered. Vaugh had been with her... Vaughn had been standing and walking with her to-  
  
It all came back.  
  
The failed mission.  
The angry guards.  
The sudden skirmish.  
The victory.  
The escape.  
The realization.  
The knowledge that they had lost.  
That after all, it meant nothing.  
The attempt to fix it.  
The arms around her.  
The tears streaking her face.  
The screaming.  
The floor.  
The silence.  
The... the...  
  
  
The cloth.   
  
  
She could still smell the chloroform on her, could feel the sratchy cloth rubbing roughly against her face, could know see all too clearly in her mind her dimming vision. The last thing she had seen: Vaughn's limp body being dragged off.   
  
And the question was where?   
  
She wasn't sure.   
  
Was this the first time she had woken up? She thought so but wasn't sure. Anything could have been possible, anything could have been feel. Her throat was parched, her bladder tight, her head dizzy. Wasn't sure. Wasn't sure of anything. Wasn't sure of anyone. Wasn't sure of herself.  
  
She could have been here for days.  
  
It had been a trap.  
  
What had they wanted? Her? What could she give them that her father couldn't? Unless they had him too. And Vaughn... if they were all together, what could they do?   
  
Footsteps sounded, loud and harsh on the stone floor, reminding her back of the aches and kinks it had endured sleeping on this hard surface.   
  
She closed her eyes, relieved to let her head drop slowly down.   
  
~:~  
  
*Day 4*  
  
The crack of the whip sounded dangerously close, sounded utterly painful, instilled a fear that she had never known deep inside of her bones.   
  
And she hadn't even opened her eyes yet.   
  
It was almost like the attempt to return to childhood, the way that she tried to block out the inevitable future by trying to force herself to go back to sleep. It was too late. She could feel the chill, could feel it creeping up into her bones and sending shudders up and down her spine.   
  
She bit back the urge to cry from the fear of it.   
  
The sound of a hard sole on the stone floor resonated throughout her cell before an accented voice reached her ear. "I see from your posture, Agent Bristow, that you are awake."  
  
She trembled, all of her bravery and and might sucked out of her as she tightened her body, knowing while she did so that she should loosen it if she wanted to lessen the pain.   
  
A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, found her eye, nestled into the lid and caused it to turn with its saltiness and the heat that it had been inside of her body. The footsteps stopped. They were next to her.   
  
"You cannot hide from me."   
  
Her breathing was ragged, she couldn't control it the way she had been trained too. She didn't want to be awake. Memories of yesterday were still all too clear in her head.   
  
Torture so painful, torture so... so unmarked... she didn't look any different.   
  
And the only things that were broken were her emotions. Her pride.  
  
She had screamed for Vaughn, she knew.   
  
The first time she had screamed for anybody.  
  
And the only answer had been a sneer. "Your **Vaughn** will never come for you."  
  
She had responded, her head throbbing, her heart pounding. "What are you doing to him?"  
  
The response had been a laugh. An arrogant one, full of pride and disbelief. "Do you really think that we would waste our time and energy on someone like him? No, **Agent** Bristow, I do believe that we have who we need right here."  
  
_Vaughn was safe? _  
  
~:~  
  
*Day 9*  
  
She gasped in pain as the sudden strike rippled throughout her body rattling her to her very bones- making her wish she was anywhere else- with anyone else.   
  
And there was only one name echoing inside of her head.   
  
_Please save me. I'm sorry I went back. Where are you? Are you hurting too?_  
  
The footsteps receded back into the hallway and she felt her knees shaking, finally giving up and crumpling to the floor. She'd gone through worse. But this was by far the most convoluted state of mind she had ever been in.   
  
It wasn't just her.   
  
She didn't know what had happened, who was here with her. She could barely even make out her own surroundings. She could feel the cold stone steps under her body, the way that the wind chilled the walls at night and the sun broiled in the morning.   
  
But she didn't hear anyone else.  
  
She wondered if there **was** anyone else.   
  
And despite the selfishness of her thoughts, the absolutely awful wish she was thinking inside but would never admit, she wanted someone to be there.   
  
She turned her head so that her fevered cheek touched the stone slabs, the coolness of them refreshing.   
  
Her hair was damp with sweat, her eyelidss fluttering.   
  
How long had she been here? A couple days? A week maybe?  
  
It was strange how fast she had lost count.   
  
It was strange how fast she had lost hope.  
  
Was Vaughn somewhere here, going through the same thing, the same ordeal... was he undergoing the same torture because of her?  
  
She shuddered.   
  
And whispered.  
  
"Vaughn... if you're there... I'm sorry. I love you. And I'm sorry." _  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
more?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
grrr... the formatting didn't work out like i wan't it too... the reply thing doesn't let you space inside... i wanted the list thing to come out like arrows but it didn't work... after all the hard thought put into spacing it so it would come out right   
  
sorry this is depressing... i've never written something like this and i didn't really intend to... i'm not sure if it all fits and it seems a little choppy so i might fix it later.  
  
anyway~   
  
agh... you're welcome to tell me how much is sucks... try not to be too mean though...   
  
  
  
  
  
  
sigh*  
  
maybe it will be better next chapter. [crosses fingers] i'm just trying to get it to the right point and it's not working and i'm all GRRR about it...   
  
  
-jenn-the-tempermental-writer**


	14. Screaming in My Mind I

**Title: CHAT  
Chapter: 14 Part 1 (1/3)  
****title: Screaming in My Mind****  
Dedications:  
****FF.et:  
Speedy: hey Stanford thanks for always being so supportive and encouraging... even offering to beta... lol I love your reviews, and you are definitely my MV-whimpering partner so who else would be better to dedicate chapters too?  
kittyfantastico: review-queen~ thanks for making sure i had your feedback even when your computer was being spastic   
AA-Alias-Addict: that was a GREAT review~ I couldn't stop laughing and my smile must have been a mile wide~****  
****SD-1:  
Kat: for being willing to help me figure out what I wanted to do with the chapter and also for teaching me why it's worth it to actually think things things through before writing~  
Screech: lol, how are you so happy all the time? And it rubs off i swear, you are CA-RAY-ZEE and i love it~ here's to you.  
BlueMoon: Other than having an avatar that I would dedicate a chapter for anyway... you leave the best reviews ever! They make me smile, they make me laugh... if there was an award for them, you would probably get it thanks for being encouraging when i was being a retard.**  
  
  
  
Screaming in My Mind  
  
_*Day 47*  
  
  
They brought her out into the antechamber, her skin pale and drawn, her eyes listless and unseeing.   
  
She blinked only out of habit. She breathed only out of necessity.  
  
The room got darker as a face lowered itself into her eyeline. The eyes were as cold as steel, the gaze icy. When the face spoke, it was not to her, but addressed to someone behind her. "How long has she been like this?" The person's breath was rancid with a hint of peppermint.  
  
As if they had stopped brushing their teeth a long time ago and now believed that mints would suffice.  
  
"Only a few days."  
  
"She stopped screaming them?"  
  
"I suppose that if you don't have the will to live, then pain is just another component of life. It doesn't really bother you anymore."  
  
"Then let's give her a will to live, shall we?"  
  
The body straightened, the eyes finally ceasing their scrutiny of her face. Sydney's eyes followed him as he walked over to a table, picked up a remote control, pressed a button.  
  
There was a slight whirring sound as two panels opened up and revealed a screen.  
  
A screen showing Michael Vaughn at his table, staring at a file, eyes and nothing else moving. Forehead wrinkles apparent on his face.  
  
That was all it took. A certain kind of liquid fire fueled by love and surprise, released by shock, felt by a heart that had just recently begun to beat again, surged through her veins with as much of a kick as an electric chock might have had. There was only one word that escaped her parched throat. "Vaughn."  
  
"Yes." The word was accompanied by a laugh. "Yes. I see that you have been somewhat... rejuvenated."  
  
Instinct kicked in, relief had let it again. "Don't be an idiot. Do you think that showing me a video recording of a man that could have been taken at any time is supposed to fill my with some sort of emotion strong enough to let me tell you what you want to know?" The words were spoken slowly, low, cracking every so often.  
  
With an edge.  
  
The eyebrows of the man lifted in slight surprise. "I'm not trying to **manipulate** you, Agent Bristow. All I'm doing is showing you someone, whom you thought dead or dying, whom you thought you were **responsible** for.... and who turns out... to be alive."  
  
"Only to show that you have the power to kill him."  
  
His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Yes. I knew you were intelligent, Agent Bristow."  
  
"Yes. You probably do. Which is why I don't believe for a **moment** that that is truly Michael Vaughn... not as he is right at this moment. I don't even recognize his surroundings."  
  
"That's because you've never been in his home." He picked up an object and then walked back to her, offering it to her one free arms, the other tied up to a pole.  
  
A white Nokia phone.  
  
She looked up at him, surprised.   
  
"Call him. But you should know that it's only for you to hear. You can't talk back."  
  
She nodded sharply. "I figured."  
  
  
She dialed the numbers, heard the familiar rings like an old friend. And her heart stilled for the millisecond where the rings stopped and the voice was about to speak... and then she heard Vaughn's voice simultaneously as she watched him speak on the screen.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
She answered, not expecting it to work. "Hello?" It didn't.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The Vaughn on the screen hesitated, and then jumped up, attatching a wire plug into the phone, hooking it up to another machine and recording the one-sided conversation.  
  
"Sydney, is that you? Syd... I know that you probably can't answer me... but I do know that you can see me." He looked directly up into the camera, his actions elliciting a slight exclamation of surprise from her captor. "Sydney, we haven't given up and I will **never** give up. Not on you. Okay? Now that we have your phone call, Marshall can- you know what? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter... you're going to be fine. I think that you might be in SPain or in the European vicinity- but we'll find out soon.  
  
I'm fine... okay? I'm fin-"  
  
The phone was grabbed from her roughly as the screen flashed back once more.  
  
"NO!" Sydney cried, reaching out and kicking at his legs and then aiming for his face as he leaned forward to dodge her assaults.  
  
He wheeled back, clutching at a bleeding nose.  
  
"You know, you shouldn't ever forget to tie a prisoner's legs down is you're already going to the trouble of tying her arms- well, one of her arms, to a pole."  
  
He smiled sarcastically, sweetly, at her and pressed a small red button, allowing the entrance of her guard.  
  
"I'm sure that now you will be **fully** receptive to the torture."  
  
~:~  
  
Michael Vaughn bit his lip in concentration and worry as he took out the disk from his recording system and sent the digital data to Marshall.   
  
He picked up the phone.   
  
"Marshall Flinkman."  
  
"Marshall? It's Agent Vaughn... it happened exactly like you said it would. I'm sending the data over to you right now. You're sure that your program works?"  
  
"They made contact?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I'm sure it works."  
  
  
  
He hung up the phone, sitting back in his chair, wincing as the back of it made contact with a semi-recent bruise.  
  
He hoped it did.  
  
It had to.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc... second part coming as soon as i finish~~~  
  
  
more???  
  
  
  
  
  
please review~!**  
  
  
-jenn


	15. Screaming in My Mind Part II

**Title: CHAT  
Chapter: 14 Part 2 (2/3)  
****title: Screaming in My Mind****  
Dedications:  
  
****FF.et:**  
  
  
Speedy: hey Stanford thanks for always being so supportive and encouraging... even offering to beta... lol I love your reviews, and you are definitely my MV-whimpering partner so who else would be better to dedicate chapters too?  
kittyfantastico: review-queen~ thanks for making sure i had your feedback even when your computer was being spastic   
AA-Alias-Addict: that was a GREAT review~ I couldn't stop laughing and my smile must have been a mile wide~  
  
  
**SD-1:**  
  
  
Kat: for being willing to help me figure out what I wanted to do with the chapter and also for teaching me why it's worth it to actually think things things through before writing~  
Screech: lol, how are you so happy all the time? And it rubs off i swear, you are CA-RAY-ZEE and i love it~ here's to you.  
BlueMoon: Other than having an avatar that I would dedicate a chapter for anyway... you leave the best reviews ever! They make me smile, they make me laugh... if there was an award for them, you would probably get it thanks for being encouraging when i was being a retard.[/b]  
**JoJo: because you rock my world, hun lol… I'm still so sorry that I forgot you in the PM rush~ you and Shammi are both angels~ you leave the greatest reviews, always make me smile… and that's way more than reason enough for a dedication **  
  
Screaming in My Mind  
  
Final A/N: To those of you who were still confused and asked me: Chapters 13, 14, 15, 16 (and the last part of Chapter 12) were/will not be dreams. The things that have happened in this chapter are a continuation of a flashback that Sydney had in the end of Chapter 12.   
  
This flashback tells the story of what Vaughn did to make Sydney so angry/hurt~  
  
Without further ado:  
  
  
  
_He had to remind himself to slow his breathing, to steady his pumping heart.  
  
It had been 33 days of hell waiting for word… waiting for any kind of news at all. 14 days of his own interrogation, and then the sudden freedom which, to him, seemed to be more of a prison than what he had been set free from.  
  
47 days of wondering- pain and pressure increased in intensity even more with the memory of her words. **"I'm sorry. I love you... and I'm sorry."**  
  
At that moment, he had felt all the torture crystallize and melt away; there was no pain, only a feeling so ambiguous to describe as her heard her rattling whisper over the static of the microphones.  
  
The statement had made his captor laugh, had made him crack a disgusting grin and had felt it necessary to bend over and whisper into Vaughn's ear:  
  
"So there **is** more to the story than I thought... How very interesting."  
  
The words physically sunk in; he had felt his jaw clenching in anger, his muscles straining against the leather straps... but mentally... his eyes and his mind and his heart were trained on __Sydney__'s face, the battered look in her eyes, the quiver of her lips... his ears memorizing the anguish in her tone.  
  
She loved him.  
  
And now the situation was different.  
  
Then there was pain. And darkness.  
  
And he had woken up in __Cartenega__, __Spain__ 14 hours later.   
  
Walked to the phone booth lying yards away on the dusty road.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"This is Agent 381J, Operation Stained Glass- Connection 84312."  
  
"Hold, please."  
  
A pause.  
  
A wrinkle of static.  
  
A familiar voice.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"__Spain__. Cartenega... I don't know how I got here; I woke up in the street. I don't know why they released me. Where's __Sydney__?"  
  
"We don't know. We'll plan a retrieval within the next 24 hours- go to the safe-house in Qu-"  
  
"Agent Kendall... I want 3 days."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm in __Spain__,__ I was recently in the same building as __Sydney__. So unless our captors have unlimited funds, connections, or an airplane... she might be in the vicinity. I want three days."  
  
He paused and added one last entreaty. "Please."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Take them."  
  
  
Three useless, wasted days...  
  
  
But now- now there was hope. He clutched the disk close to his body as he drove, a wild urgency lighting his eyes.  
  
__Marshall__ was already at his desk when Vaughn ran through the door. "Where are we?"  
  
He looked up. "Oh-hey Michael - I mean Agent Vaughn - right... __Sydney__... um, well I'm not sure yet but I will be able to at least give you a cell block within a couple of minutes."  
  
Vaughn nodded. "Can you explain to me what you're doing?"  
  
"Just...a...minute..." said __Marshall__ as he furiously typed a few final commands.  
  
He turned around in his swivel-chair and nodded. "Right. So. From your reports, you said that a part of your torture was watching Syd being tortured- er- Agent Bristow, I mean. This is unusual... because this captor believes in the torture of seeing what you can't have as opposed to the torture of total isolation, we assumed-"  
  
Vaughn nodded impatiently. "Right- we assumed that there were cameras placed in my home. There was one. What's the connection?"  
  
"Well, when Syd called you, she had to have been watching the video feed at the same time; there's no other way she could have been convinced that it was really you on the phone and that you were really fine. Therefore, because the two different systems were connected by the same system, the phone call you recorded should have, encoded within it's recording, a recording of the wavelengths of both the camera and the cell phone simultaneously."  
  
Vaughn furrowed his brow, trying to make the connection. "And...? Can you elaborate?"  
  
__Marshall__ paused, lifting his head and finger in sudden inspiration before dropping both again. "Yes... Yeah... Well, there is a slight pause after that the speaker speaks in which the listener can't hear the speaker's words. Now, granted that technology has become so advanced that this difference is not able to be heard with the naked ear... but once one has a recording of the data, one can look directly at the wavelengths and the amount of discrepancy will tell us basically how far away she is… from your apartment- in cell-phone blocks of course-"  
  
A small beep from his computer stole away his attention and Marshall turned wildly back to the desk, fingers tapping furiously at the keys until a moving graph came onto the screen.   
  
He motioned for Vaughn to come closer with a distracted wave of his hand. Vaughn crouched next to him, looking intently at the screen.   
  
Another wavelength came up right below the first, each moving identically to the other, bumping where one bumped, leveling and dropping as other did.  
  
__Marshall__ clicked at his mouse, moving one graph directly on top of the other.  
  
There was absolutely no difference.  
  
"__Marshall__, what does it mean I-"  
  
He was cut off from __Marshall__'s sudden ejection from his seat and his words stopped in his throat in surprise as he ran across the room to another computer, bringing up a map of the cell-phone blocks of the city.   
  
Running back to the computer, he sent the data hurriedly before running back to the computer across the room.  
  
Vaughn followed.   
  
Green and yellow lines ran across the screen as they scanned, finally settling on a ten-block radius only three miles away from the CIA headquarters.  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
"Wha-" Marshall looked up, his eyes getting larger as he saw the screen. "Oh my God."  
  
Vaughn's mind was racing. **Oh my God. She's here. She's right HERE under my nose... The F*CKS!!!** Breathing noticeably heavier, he raced down the corridor, throwing open the door to __Kendall__'s office.  
  
"Agent Vaughn, what is the meaning of this?"  
  
"The meaning of this? The meaning of this is that Sydney- Agent Bristow- has made contact and using Marshall's wavelength program, we've found that she's 3 miles away... Or at least the cell phone is." He swore. Three wasted useless days in __Spain__. In __SPAIN__ for God's sakes.__ He laughed in disgust. "Those f*cks shipped me to __SPAIN__ because they knew I would search for her there."  
  
Agent __Kendall__ hadn't moved. "Go."  
  
"Go?"  
  
"Go. I'm giving you leave. Find her, take what you need."  
  
Wonder filled Vaughn and he nodded as he turned to leave.  
  
"Agent Vaughn?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Next time, please leave that kind of language in your own mind."  
  
Vaughn nodded again, already twitching from how close this was.   
  
  
  
He strode out of CIA headquarters, a new look of determination flashing in his eyes as he strode - nearly ran- to his car.  
  
He had found her.  
  
**Syd... I found you. Stay there. Please. I love you too... more than I ever thought I could, more than I ever thought I would, more than I ever could have believed. So please.  
  
Stay.   
  
Wait.  
  
  
For me.**_**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
tbc....  
  
more?? (hehe... The dreaded question I know... But it's tradition****)**


	16. Screaming in My Mind III

**Title: CHAT  
Chapter: 14 Part 3 (3/3)  
****title: Screaming in My Mind****  
Dedications:  
  
****FF.et:**  
  
  
Speedy: hey Stanford thanks for always being so supportive and encouraging... even offering to beta... lol I love your reviews, and you are definitely my MV-whimpering partner so who else would be better to dedicate chapters too?  
kittyfantastico: review-queen~ thanks for making sure i had your feedback even when your computer was being spastic   
AA-Alias-Addict: that was a GREAT review~ I couldn't stop laughing and my smile must have been a mile wide~  
  
  
**SD-1:**  
  
  
Kat: for being willing to help me figure out what I wanted to do with the chapter and also for teaching me why it's worth it to actually think things things through before writing~  
Screech: lol, how are you so happy all the time? And it rubs off i swear, you are CA-RAY-ZEE and i love it~ here's to you.  
BlueMoon: Other than having an avatar that I would dedicate a chapter for anyway... you leave the best reviews ever! They make me smile, they make me laugh... if there was an award for them, you would probably get it thanks for being encouraging when i was being a retard.[/b]  
**JoJo: because you rock my world, hun lol… I'm still so sorry that I forgot you in the PM rush~ you and Shammi are both angels~ you leave the greatest reviews, always make me smile… and that's way more than reason enough for a dedication **  
  
  
Screaming in My Mind  
  
_  
  
  
The suitcase was slammed down onto the tabletop with a force that was displayed through the sound. The bar glasses shook and emitted their shrill, clinking sounds which accompanied the "thwap" of the suitcase in a sort of cacaphonous melody.  
  
The burly bartender in front of him looked up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Michael didn't smile. "Don't tell me you don't recognize me."  
  
The man opened the cuitcase and saw the bundled bills.   
  
Whistled.  
  
"...Michael...was it?"  
  
"Where the **hell** is she?"  
  
"Where the hell is who?"  
  
Vaughn's jaw visibly clenched, the muscles bunching on the sides of his face. "Tell. Me. Where... she... is... you f*ckin' bastard."  
  
The man's eyes slitted and all pretense of friendship was lost. "Listen. I don't know what you want or who the hell you're looking for you better watch out and realize who you're talkin-"  
  
Vaughn's thin restraint was broken and he slammed the man's head down onto the bar, held it there, pushed a gun up so that it pressed into his neck. He pulled out a picture of Sydney. Shoved it in his face. "I'm looking for **her** you son of a bitch," he growled.  
  
The man stilled. "Listen, I don't know who that is. I don't know who you're looking for."  
  
He trembled underneath Michael's fingers.  
  
With disgust and disappointment etched into his features, Vaughn pushed the man away from him, took hold of the suitcase, and left, leaving the man pressing a hand against his forehead and shaking his head warily.  
  
Michael bit his lip in anger- at the bartender, at the people who had Sydney... at himself. Letting out a yell of frustration, he kicked his foot against the brick wall, refusing to wince.   
  
He picked up the suitcase and started walking to the car.  
  
"I hear her screaming at night."  
  
He turned back, his eyes widening at the mere prospect of a 'she', his heart already wrenching at the thought of her screaming. His eyes searched the narrow alley until he caught sight of the shriveled old man leaning against the wall, hidden in too-big clothes. "Who? **Who's screaming**?"  
  
The man turned his eyes back to the wall, staring at nothing once again. "Not even at night. She screams all the time now."  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"Weird things... sometimes I understand her and sometimes I don't."  
  
"She screams in different languages... I wish she would stop screaming... I can't hear Josie in my head anymore... it's always that woman... always that screaming woman instead."   
  
He wanted to shake the man until he talked. "**Who? Who are you talking about???**" Desperation leaked into his tone, coating it, drenching it.  
  
The old man looked away, as if suddenly bored with the conversation. Picked the dirt from his fingernails. Started to hum absent-mindedly. Seemed to forget that Michael was even there.  
  
Michael knelt, not knowing what else to do. "Where? Please... where is the screaming?"  
  
The man narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on Michael's eyes. "Her screaming keeps Josie away."  
  
"If you tell me where the screaming is coming from, I'll make it stop."  
  
The old man's mouth dropped a little, his eyes incredulous. "Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
~:~  
  
He ran to the car, threw the door open and jumped in without noticing the figure in the passenger seat.   
  
"You really didn't think that you would be doing this alone did you?"  
  
Michael shrugged. "Not really. Why do you think I left the car unlocked?"  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"The old warehouse on 36th and Vine. There's a storage room and leads down towards a bomb shelter. Are you up to this?"  
  
Jack Bristow sneered. "Shut up and drive."  
  
~:~  
  
The car rolled slowly until it was thirty feet away before the two men walked out of the car.   
  
"Are you sure that they're alone?"  
  
"No."  
  
Jack nodded, handing Vaughn his tactical gear. "You of all people should know, Agent Vaughn, to always be prepared."  
  
~:~  
  
The door to the outer warehouse was open. Seemingly abandoned.  
  
There was a guard inthe storage room.  
  
Vaughn's breathing grew haggard until he himself realized the change and attempted to stop himself. "I remember this place."  
  
The musty air was inhaled as both men reached the outside frames of the door. Each counted to three. And then went forward, catching the guard off-guard with a end of a gun ramming into his throat and cocking up, snapping his neck.  
  
He hoped she was here.  
  
Her words still haunted him.  
  
She loved him.  
  
She was sorry... and she loved him.  
  
He and Jack went their separate ways, Vaughn walking down the corridors he knew so well... corridors he had been forced to walk through so that he would truly understand how close he was to Sydney... how close he was to her yet knowing that she didn't know he was there. Knowing that she was lying helpless, cheek to the stone floor, breathing fluttery breaths.  
  
...[present tense]  
  
He's standing in her cell, frozen in place as he looks at her.  
  
Looks at how fragile she seems, lying there. Motionless.   
  
His breaths ragged and uneven, he kneels down to her body ever so slowly, turns her battered body over so that she's laying in his lap. Tenderly moves the hair out of her face with gentle fingers.  
  
Felt her slow faint pulse throbbing somewhere deep within her, threatening to flicker out.   
  
Nothing else matters anymore.   
  
"Sydney." His whisper is soft, a warm breath across her cheek. "Sydney... wake up. Please. I'm here... I'm here for you... please."  
  
His thumb strokes her cheek, taking away the dirt that smudges her face.   
  
He bends down and lighting touches his lips to hers... it's almost a kiss.  
  
"Syd..."  
  
He places a hand on her heart, jostles her slightly, wills her to stir.  
  
Her cracked lips part slightly. "Va- Vaughn?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are- are you really here?" Her voice cracks, breaks. Her eyes open slowly as if scared that what she thinks is there will disappear.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No... don't be sorry," he kisses her cheek, "It's not your fault- it doesn't matter..." he kisses her eyelids, "we got you back. **I** have you back..." he kisses the tip of her nose.   
  
"And I'm never letting you go. I promise."  
  
He kisses her mouth.  
  
And she kisses him back.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
  
more???  
  
  
how was that for a chapter that didn't end in a cliff? I know that a bunch of the middle stuff was hazy but it wasn't important and I was antsy to get to the end and finally update~ so forgive me.   
  
  
-jenn **  
  
yech... read it back and it wasn't as good as i'd hoped... maybe i'll edit later~


	17. The Calm

**TITLE:** Chat  
**AUTHOR**: Jennyfer  
**CHAPTER**: 15.1 (1/2)  
**DEDICATIONS**: To my ZAP-ers, readers, reviewers, delurkers (kate ), my friends… to all y'all~ you rock my world!  
  
But thanks especially to **Katiqua and Speedy **who were my okay-ers/betas for this chap… you guys ARE SO AWESOME!!!!!!  
  
**LYRICS**: "Cruisin'"  
  
The Calm  
  
  
**Titles:  
  
15.1 - The Calm  
15.2 - The Storm  
  
  
("The Calm" before "The Storm" get it? Haha… I crack myself up…)**  
  
  
Previously:  
_He's standing in her cell, frozen in place as he looks at her.  
  
Looks at how fragile she seems, lying there. Motionless.   
  
His breaths ragged and uneven, he kneels down to her body ever so slowly, turns her battered body over so that she's laying in his lap. Tenderly moves the hair out of her face with gentle fingers.  
  
Felt her slow faint pulse throbbing somewhere deep within her, threatening to flicker out.   
  
Nothing else matters anymore.   
  
"__Sydney__." His whisper is soft, a warm breath across her cheek. "__Sydney__... wake up. Please. I'm here... I'm here for you... please."  
  
His thumb strokes her cheek, taking away the dirt that smudges her face.   
  
He bends down and lighting touches his lips to hers... it's almost a kiss.  
  
"Syd..."  
  
He places a hand on her heart, jostles her slightly, wills her to stir.  
  
Her cracked lips part slightly. "Va- Vaughn?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are- are you really here?" Her voice cracks, breaks. Her eyes open slowly as if scared that what she thinks is there will disappear.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No... don't be sorry," he kisses her cheek, "It's not your fault- it doesn't matter..." he kisses her eyelids, "we got you back. I have you back..." he kisses the tip of her nose.   
  
"And I'm never letting you go. I promise."  
  
He kisses her mouth.  
  
And she kisses him back.  
  
  
:::  
  
The chair was hard.  
  
But it didn't matter.  
  
He sat and watched in wonder as a peace, one he had never seen her have… one that he couldn't even begin to explain, lit her face.  
  
It matched the lightness he felt in his heart; a feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time.   
  
He loved her. She loved him back. Even the words rolling around in his head filled him with a happiness that he could barely believe. He wanted to wake her up, watch her blink the sleep from her eyes (aggravated at first but then), smiling sleepily at his expectant face.   
  
Saying "Hey," softly before bringing his face down to her.   
  
But even stronger than that desire was the one telling him that he had to keep her safe. That no matter **what**… he had to keep her safe.   
  
She was too precious to lose, too beautiful to hurt.   
  
Kept him amazed that she had chosen him.  
  
**Him.**  
  
She turned a little in her sleep, tousling the white hospital sheets with her movements, a tiny smile alighting her features.   
  
"Mmm… Vaughn."  
  
He froze, watching her, as she turned back to face him, her eyes slowly opening.  
  
She blinked the sleep from her eyes.  
  
Watched him watching her.  
  
Smiled softly, tentatively, as if she couldn't believe that he was still there, that he was watching her, waiting for her, saving her, loving her… here with her.  
  
"Hey."  
  
_  
  
Baby, let's cruise.  
  
_"Hey," He smiled at her, loving the safety of the words, the familiarity of them.   
  
He had said them to her a thousand times before and most likely would a thousand times after today… yet they would never again hold the same emotion that they did now.   
  
It blew him away._  
  
Away from here~  
  
_"I can't believe it," she paused, as if she had accidentally let slip something she had meant to say only in her head. _  
  
Don't be confused.  
  
_"Believe what?" _  
  
The way is clear.  
  
_She blushed, tried to turn her head away, winced, faced him again… and grinned- if a little ruefully. "Well… I can't believe that- that you're here. With me."_  
  
And if you want it, you got it.  
  
Forever.  
  
_He inched his chair closer to the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. Looked at the delicate lines that made up the strength that they carried. Kissed her fingertips. _  
  
I love it when we're cruisin' together.  
  
_"I'll always be here with you, Syd. I'm not going to let you go again… how stupid do you think I am?"   
  
**I wouldn't let you get away… not again… not ever.**  
  
She smiled a little, intertwined their fingers and looked at their laced hands. "I dunno, Vaughn… you've caused me a lot of grief… I mean, I had to be lost, tortured, rescued, and confined to a hospital room for you to finally kiss me."  
  
He flushed but hid it with a small grin. "Actually… I kissed you **before** they confined you."  
  
She smiled back, a glow taking over her entire face. Bathing him in it. "Of course. How could I have forgotten?" _  
  
Music is played for love.  
  
Cruisin' was made for love.  
  
I love it when we're cruisin' together.  
  
_"Vaughn?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She pulled at his hand, bringing him to his feet and closer to the edge of the bed.  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
**Kiss me.   
  
I don't want to forget what it feels like.  
  
I want to memorize the texture of your lips.  
  
I want to believe that it happened.  
  
That my life has started.  
  
With you. **  
  
He grinned, kissing her softly on the lips… still reeling from the fact that he could.  
  
Her hand lay on his cheek. "Come here. Lie down next to me."  
  
He paused for a second.  
  
Shook his head, still unbelieving.   
  
And then complied to her request.  
  
He lay close to her, feeling the length of her body along his... feeling her warmth emanating off of her body and onto- and into- him. Her hair lay spread over the pillow, warm and lustrous. He ran his fingers through it, marveling that he was here, lying next to her... that he was allowed to do this to her.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile settling in her features. "Do you know... how long I've waited for this?"  
  
He grinned, sheepishly. "How long you've waited for what? You mean you've actually wanted to be stuck in a hospital room in a too-soft bed and a television with bad reception?"  
  
Shaking her head, she adjusted herself, laying her head on his arm, inches closer to his face. "No."  
  
There was a pause of complete and utter silence that filled the entire room. A moment in time where nothing moved, nothing breathed, nothing lived. Only realization was present.  
  
Things had suddenly gotten more serious.  
  
His words were a whisper. "Then what?"  
  
"Lying here in your arms... knowing that this isn't a dream that I can wake up from... hoping that my knowledge is correct."  
  
He could barely breathe. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. I love you... did you know that?"  
  
He lifted his fingers and brushed away the strands of hair that lay on her cheek. "How do you know?"  
  
She sighed softly, burrowed a little deeper into the crook of his neck. "You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because your reality is better than any dream you could have." _  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc…  
  
more???  
  
Lemme know… 15.2 is kinda painful…. *eep* hides  
  
Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated   
  
-jennbeanie**


	18. The Storm

**TITLE:** Chat  
**AUTHOR**: Jennyfer  
**CHAPTER**: 15.2 (2/2)  
**DEDICATIONS**: To my ZAP-ers, readers, reviewers, delurkers (**kate003** ), my friends… to all y'all~ you rock my world!  
  
But thanks especially to **Katiqua and Speedy **who were my okay-ers/betas for this chap… you guys ARE SO AWESOME!!!!!!  
  
Also to **Jen *LittleSyd***  
  
**LYRICS**: "I Shall Believe"  
  
The Storm  
  
  
**Titles:  
  
15.1 - The Calm  
15.2 - The Storm  
  
  
("The Calm" before "The Storm" get it? Haha… I crack myself up…)**  
  
  
  
  
  
**15.2**  
_  
  
  
  
  
"Lying here in your arms... knowing that this isn't a dream that I can wake up from... hoping that my knowledge is correct."  
  
He could barely breathe. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. I love you... did you know that?"  
  
He lifted his fingers and brushed away the strands of hair that lay on her cheek. "How do you know?"  
  
She sighed softly, burrowed a little deeper into the crook of his neck. "You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because your reality is better than any dream you could have."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ahem."  
  
The voice was loud, too loud for the room, too intrusive to be real and messing up this one perfect moment in time.   
  
"**Agent** Vaughn, may I see you outside for a moment?"  
  
Stressing the "Agent" as if that would remind him that there is a word called protocol. As if it would make him suddenly change his mind about what decisions he had made, what changes he had made to his life... what rulebooks he had thrown out the window.   
  
He turned his head back to Sydney, watched her watching him with eyes that weren't so clear, weren't so sure anymore.   
  
Still loved him.  
  
Still loved her.  
  
"I'll be right back."  
  
She nodded.  
  
He eased himself off the bed, out of her arms, missing the warmth of her body next to his like he would miss his own heartbeat.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
Eyes narrowed.  
  
She only heard a sentence of the conversation before the door closed.   
  
"What the **hell** do you think you are doing?"  
  
She had been sure then, had been sure that there would be voices raised, doors slamming open, a raging Michael Vaughn coming through the door and holding her to him possessively, saying loudly that he would never give her up.  
  
Would never leave her.  
  
Would never give up on her.  
  
_Promise me  
  
You won't give up on me  
  
And I shall believe _  
  
  
  
  
Knowing her life, she should have seen it coming.   
  
Knowing her figurative language, English student that she was, she should have seen the closing door as a symbol, a metaphor for all the light and laughter of her life... so recently gotten... being shut out forever.  
  
Knowing the CIA, she should have known that they would never have allowed this.  
  
  
  
She knew this.  
  
But didn't believe it.  
  
  
Because she thought she knew Michael Vaughn.   
And she thought he knew her.  
And wouldn't care anymore about words written on a page.  
  
  
Didn't expect a pale looking man coming back through the door, pain in his eyes, uncertainty weighing down his heart, knowledge that nothing would dull the pain, nothing would hide the truth...  
  
**no use in trying  
you will fail  
don't even try  
it won't work  
she'll know  
she knows already**  
  
She looked up then, the light of what had just happened still showing up innocent in her eyes... he was still the man she loved. The man who loved her back.  
  
He turned, his voice unnatural. "Can I have a minute please?"  
  
The door clicked shut.  
  
The room was silent.  
  
The universe stood still.  
  
She didn't understand the tears in his eyes.  
  
Her hand lifted off the bed, laid itself gently on his arm.   
  
Whisper.  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
Tears in his eyes.  
  
He moved away, her hand fell back onto the sheets. Worry alighted her eyes then, fear filled her heart, anguished flooded her throat and her eyes were blank, automatically compartmentalizing, instinctively knowing what would come, what would hurt, what would maim, what would kill...  
  
Her jaw clenched as her vision blurred unnaturally.  
  
Distortion.  
  
Her teeth hurt.  
  
"Tell me... Tell me it's alright." _  
  
  
Even if it's a lie.  
  
Say it will be all right.  
  
And I shall believe. _  
  
  
"Syd..."  
  
**What's that look on your face?   
  
The sadness   
the anguish  
the loss of self  
the loss of the light that you had in you  
the light i thought i put it you  
why is it gone  
did i put it out  
  
tell me what's going on  
  
no don't  
  
just tell me it's all right  
  
just   
hold  
me**  
  
"Vaughn...?"  
  
He cleared his throat. "Agent Bristow... I sincerely hope that you will get better soon and that we will see eachother __again soon when you are in better shape. __"  
  
**monotone doesn't fit you**  
  
He turned to the door.  
  
**when you lie your left hand shakes a little.  
your left is shaking  
don't lie to me**  
  
"You can't do this."  
  
He turned around, defeated. He knew that this would be the case... knew that he wouldn't be able to erase all the words said, the emotion felt, the love shared. He wasn't even trying anymore.  
  
Only words.  
  
There were only words.  
  
And they didn't mean s***.  
  
  
He lowered his face so that it's pointing towards the ground and spoke quickly, his back towards her. "We can't do this, you know we can't do this."  
  
  
  
she is shocked she is frozen she is angry she has no idea what the hell she is supposed to do  
  
"Yes you can. Yes we can. You can't walk out on me now."  
  
  
  
He turned around, a smile as cheap as paper plastered on his face. "You look better already."  
  
**your eyes give you away**  
  
  
  
"Stop it. **Stop it**. What did he say to you?"  
  
He walked towards the bed, took her hand in his.  
  
Gave her momentary hope.  
  
He was back.  
  
There was the look of truth in his eyes.  
  
"Tell me that we're going to be okay." Her voice was a whisper.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Syd... I... I can't."  
  
**we won't**  
  
He moved to leave but she grabbed onto his arm... a final desperation. "What happened out there?"  
  
He kissed her forehead.  
  
"Goodbye, Agent Bristow. I'll see you soon."  
  
**broken  
empty  
what happened  
it was so good  
how could it all fall apart  
doesn't make sense  
what could happen in two minutes  
you know what love is when you don't want to go to sleep  
reality was better than any dream  
dreams shattered  
broken  
empty  
what happened  
tell me  
torn  
explain  
i don't understand  
where are you  
the sky seems to be gone**_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
more?  
  
  
  
i know that the writing style was really weird... i usually don't write all choppy like that... well at least not ALL the time but i had no idea about this chapter and i knew it wasn't going to come on it's own so i had to do my "let's randomly start this and see where we're going" thing again...  
  
i have to read it over and if it still sucks... i'll probably post it anyway and just fix it later~  
  
  
  
-jenn**


	19. Catcher

**TITLE: **Chat   
**AUTHOR: **Jennyfer   
**CHAPTER:** 16   
**DEDICATIONS:**   
  
for Stanford a.k.a. Speedy a.k.a. moose~   
  
and bella (c is for cookie AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA)   
  
and becky ("i'm going to sit on vaughn!" AHAHHAHAHAHAH)   
  
  
**LYRICS:** Coldplay's "God Put a Smile Upon your Face" and "The Scientist"   
  
  
Catcher   
  
  
[from chapter 12 ::bring me to life::]   
  
**BleedingPhoenix:** tell me one thing.   
**peoplesay:** hello to you to and okay.   
**BleedingPhoenix:** tell me what your hands look like.   
**peoplesay:** what?   
**BleedingPhoenix: **Why are you talking to me?   
**peoplesay:** What?!   
**peoplesay: **I believe that you started this conversation- because you asked me to tell you something.   
**BleedingPhoenix:** No. NO That' not what i mean.   
**peoplesay:** are you okay?   
**BleedingPhoenix:** I mean why **do **you talk to me? What compelled you to ever start speaking to me? What? BEcause I wasn't talking? BEcuase you felt sorry for me? WHat?   
  
Her fingers fly across the keyboard, becoming a blur to her eyes. She feels like crying, screaming, laughing, knowing.   
  
Knowing.   
  
She has to know.   
  
**peoplesay: **hey... hey... calm down, okay?   
  
  
  
Her hands shake from the brute force of the memory.   
  
**_stop it   
i don't want to remember   
make me forget   
it hurts   
too much   
i'm hollow   
i'm broken_**   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: No. I can't calm down. I won't calm down. Not now. Not ever.   
**peoplesay**: So you're going to spend the rest of your life running. Is that the plan?   
**BleedingPheonix**: That's the plan.   
**peoplesay**: So you're always going to be a step ahead. No one's ever going to catch you.   
  
  
  
  
_"Tell me we're going to be all right."   
  
"I can't."   
  
More urgent now.   
  
"Tell me we're going to be all right."   
  
Pain flooding into his eyes- struggle against himself, for himself, by himself.   
  
"Syd... I... I can't."   
  
Heart falls to the floor.   
  
Shatters.   
  
Pieces too small to ever fully repair litter the ground, the room, the entire world. Swept away by currents and waves.   
  
Never able to be fully put together again.   
  
"I'll see you soon Agent Bristow."_   
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I don't want to be caught.   
**peoplesay**: yes you do.  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: What? How could you even believe for a _second_ that you have the right to presume something like that?  
  
**_i never want to be caught   
because if you have been caught  
you can be let go  
and i don't like being let go.  
it hurts.  
i'd rather keep on running._**  
  
**peoplesay**: you want to be caught. You just also want to be sure. You're past believing in fairytales now; you're past believing in chance meetings, in love at first sight, you're past wanting to be surprised, past wanting someone in control of what you do.   
**peoplesay**: In fact... what you really want... is to have the semblance of surprise... the ability to pretend that you have a perfect romance where you and the man you're with are so perfect that you'll never leave eachother. While somehow still knowing that you're in control. So that you can have your romance without the risk of a broken heart.  
  
Her eyes are burning into the words, hands are trembling and shaking, eyes are watering, tears are dripping down... and down... and down...  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: why are you doing this to me?  
**peoplesay**: why are you doing this to yourself?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: what else am i supposed to do?!?!?  
  
Long silence.  
  
Her breath flutters in and out of her, soft as a whisper, a crucial as a heartbeat. Her hands tremble. She waits for a response.  
  
And waits, looking at the unblinking box, willing words to appear.  
  
And they don't.  
  
40 seconds  
  
1 minute  
  
4 minutes  
  
  
  
  
**peoplesay**: you're supposed to be able to keep on living.  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I've _been_ living. What else do you think I'm doing? I'm breathing, aren't I?  
**peoplesay**: All right. Maybe you're living. But you're not reacting. You go through the motions but don't put any heart into it. you say the words but there's not meaning behind them.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: How can you say that? You don't even know me.  
**peoplesay**: Do you?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Do i know myself? What... are you some sort of shrink or something?  
  
**_no don't.  
stop.  
don't do this.  
i don't want to fight.  
either i'll win  
and lose you  
or i'll have to face the truth._**  
  
Breathe  
  
She closes her eyes and waits till the storm brewing inside of her is over, until it has passed.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: why does it seem like you know me? Do you know me?  
**peoplesay**: you said that there was something about me. maybe there is. But how can i know if i know you if I don't even know your name?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I guess you can't.  
  
  
  
_She watched him through her peripheral vision as she walked down the long corridor. Why did the door have to be so far away?  
  
His desk was twenty feet away now, fast approaching.  
  
**I will not look at him. I will not look at him.**  
  
His desk was ten feet away.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the crown of his head, his hair catching the light as he bent his head, poring studiously over fiels.  
  
**He knows I'm here.**  
  
5 feet away.  
  
**I will not look at him.**_  
  
Where do we go, nobody knows?  
  
I've got to say, I'm on the way  
  
down.  
  
_She walked past the desk, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath catching in her throat._  
  
God give me style and give me grace.  
  
_She looked quickly behind her, unable to stop herself.  
  
Their eyes met.  
  
Her gaze clashed into his as he did the same thing, guiltily.  
  
He attempted a smile. _  
  
God put a smile upon your face.  
  
_She attempted not to cry. He saw the tears filling her eyes.   
  
His unsure smile died.  
  
He gulped as he watched her composure fall apart. _  
  
Where do we go to draw the line?  
  
I've gotta say, I wasted all your time  
  
oh honey, honey.  
  
_She realized his gaze, saw the hurt etched on his face, and knew in her heart, even if temporarily, she wanted him to hurt. Her face hardened, a kind of professional that he didn't even remember ever seeing on her._  
  
Where do I go to fall from grace?  
  
_She gulped, turned, and walked on. _  
  
God put a smile upon your face.  
  
Now when you work it out I'm worse than you.  
  
_Syd!- Agent Bristow!_  
  
Yeah, when you work it out, I wanted to.  
  
_She turned- not knowing what to expect, not knowing what she wanted.  
  
"What?"  
  
Pure oozing venom.  
  
He winced._  
  
Now, when you work out where to draw the line,  
  
_A folder was thrust into her hands. "This is about your mission in Turkey. The counter mission is simple so it's in the file too."   
  
She nodded curtly, took the folder from him without touching his hands, her heart still scalded, still hurting, still not believing that it still worked.   
  
Turned around without another word and began to walk to the door that was too far away.  
  
Opened the file to the batch of papers.  
  
Saw the Post-It.  
  
One sentence.  
  
Scrawled, familiar handwriting.  
  
**I'm sorry**  
  
  
  
Her tears stung._  
  
  
  
Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry  
You don't know how lovely you are.  
  
I had to find you  
Tell you I need you  
Tell you I set you apart.  
  
_She walked on. _  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
tell me your secrets  
and ask me your questions  
oh let's go back to the start  
  
nobody said it was easy  
it's such a shame for us to part  
nobody said it was easy  
no one ever said it would be this hard  
  
  
  
oh take me back to the start.  
  
  
  
tell me you love me  
come back and haunt me  
oh and I rush to the start.  
  
  
  
**no one said it was easy  
no one ever said it would be this hard**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
more???  
  
  
-jenn  
  
  
REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


	20. Words

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jennyfer, Vaughn's Jenn, Jennifer, Jenn, Olivia... me   
**Chapter**: 17  
**Dedications**: as stated before, this thread is dedicated to JJ in hopes that he will see it and feel the need to owe me something... meaning either S/V lovin' or a really REALLY REALLY good reason why not (ex: MV meeting me _might_ be acceptable)  
  
Lol~ Chapter Dedications:  
**FF.NET**  
Tascha  
"Me"  
Jayme  
  
**SD-1**  
Steph [spaztic]  
denise*  
Cat [Blue Moon]  
quack!  
tessa  
shammi... your avatar is **SO BANGABLE** (i even saved it... if you ever change it... )  
  
  
  
  
17.  
  
  
Words  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix:** I don't want to be caught.   
**peoplesay:** yes you do.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix:** What? How could you even believe for a _second _that you have the right to presume something like that?  
  
**_i never want to be caught   
because if you have been caught  
you can be let go  
and i don't like being let go.  
it hurts.  
i'd rather keep on running._**  
  
**peoplesay:** you want to be caught. You just also want to be sure. You're past believing in fairytales now; you're past believing in chance meetings, in love at first sight, you're past wanting to be surprised, past wanting someone in control of what you do.   
**peoplesay:** In fact... what you really want... is to have the semblance of surprise... the ability to pretend that you have a perfect romance where you and the man you're with are so perfect that you'll never leave eachother. While somehow still knowing that you're in control. So that you can have your romance without the risk of a broken heart.  
  
  
...  
  
**peoplesay:** you're supposed to be able to keep on living.  
  
...  
  
**BleedingPhoenix: **why does it seem like you know me? Do you know me?  
**peoplesay:** you said that there was something about me. maybe there is. But how can i know if i know you if I don't even know your name?  
**BleedingPhoenix: **I guess you can't.  
  
...  
  
_Why did you write that? It's so depressing... you have no right to do that.   
  
No right in investing your emotions into something else.  
  
Someone else.  
  
Especially when they have the power to dump you._  
  
**peoplesay**: no. you're wrong.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: what?  
**peoplesay**: I was about to stop... give up like I almost did those couple days ago in the chatroom...  
  
_And? Go on._ She bites her lip.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: ... and?  
**peoplesay**: and all of the sudden, shakespeare popped into my head.   
**BleedingPhoenix**: shakespeare?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: ... ???  
**peoplesay**: a rose by any other name...  
  
Oh.  
  
She doesn't know what to say... or feel... or do.  
  
What else was there?  
  
**peoplesay**: The only factual information I have on you is the city you live. But that's not important anyway. I can see your emotions, I can tell the kind of person you are.   
**BleedingPhoenix**: And what kind of person am i?  
  
**peoplesay**:strong.  
  
**peoplesay**: unbelievable controlled.   
  
**peoplesay**: gorgeous.  
  
She can't fight the little smile.  
  
Can't help hoping that the person on the other side of the screen _isn't_ some hunched 70 year old. Despite the fact that appearances don't matter... they do. A little.  
  
**_though it doesn't matter anyway  
just words  
words mean nothing  
close to nothing  
vaughn's words  
meant nothing  
but words are so powerful  
this is all just words  
slowly healing me_**  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you can't tell I'm gorgeous.   
**peoplesay**: I can tell.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I'm not  
**peoplesay**: your words make you gorgeous.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: words can be deceptive.  
  
**peoplesay**: not when there's true emotion lying behind them. no one can use words falsely if they truly believe in them.  
  
_"Tell me... Tell me it's alright."   
  
  
_Even if it's a lie.  
  
Say it will be all right.  
  
And I shall believe. _  
  
  
"Syd..."  
  
**What's that look on your face?   
  
The sadness   
the anguish  
the loss of self  
the loss of the light that you had in you  
the light i thought i put it you  
why is it gone  
did i put it out  
  
tell me what's going on  
  
no don't  
  
just tell me it's all right  
  
just   
hold  
me**  
  
"Vaughn...?"  
  
He cleared his throat. "Agent Bristow... I sincerely hope that you will get better soon and that we will see eachother again soon when you are in better shape. "  
**  
monotone doesn't fit you**  
  
He turned to the door.  
  
**when you lie your left hand shakes a little.  
your left is shaking  
don't lie to me**  
  
"You can't do this."  
  
He turned around, a smile as cheap as paper plastered on his face. "You look better already."  
  
**your eyes give you away**  
  
"Tell me that we're going to be okay." Her voice was a whisper.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Syd... I... I can't."  
  
"Goodbye, Agent Bristow. I'll see you soon."_  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: yes they can. and it the fact that you know that they are lies when it hurts the most.  
  
**peoplesay**: then it affects...on both sides.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: i doubt it.  
  
**peoplesay**: you doubt too much.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I have my reasons.  
  
_"Goodbye, Agent Bristow. I'll see you soon."  
  
**broken  
empty  
what happened  
it was so good  
how could it all fall apart  
doesn't make sense  
what could happen in two minutes  
you know what love is when you don't want to go to sleep  
reality was better than any dream  
dreams shattered  
broken  
empty  
what happened  
tell me  
torn  
explain  
i don't understand  
where are you  
the sky seems to be gone**_  
  
She shakes her head. She has to get rid of these thoughts.   
  
They have to stop plaguing her.  
  
She has to move on.  
  
Her heart has to heal.  
  
She has to keep on living.  
  
Keep on living, breathing, reacting, sensing, knowing, feeling...   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: and you?  
**peoplesay**: am i gorgeous?  
  
She smiles... laughs a little inside.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: sure.   
**peoplesay**: i might be biased.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: towards good or bad?  
**peoplesay**: no comment   
  
The room feels lighter somehow.  
  
The nightmare is receding.  
  
She can breathe.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: what about you? What about your life?  
**peoplesay**: why are you interested?  
  
She bites her lip.  
  
She knows now.  
  
She just isn't sure if she wants to admit it.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: because your saving me.  
**peoplesay**: you spelled "you're" wrong by the way.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**:... you're so anal.  
**peoplesay**: that would be the correct use of the word "you're"  
  
She laughs, shakes her head.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: shut up.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you're just changing the subject. what do you have to hide?  
**peoplesay**: what? me? I'm not hiding anything~  
**peoplesay**: I lived in Ecuador until i was around fifteen, moved here, met you... those are basically the highlights.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
more?**  
  
(finally used the spoiler i gave you guys in thread 7 lol! )  
  
tell me if you hate it... i'm not as satisfied with it as i have been with other chaps~  
  
-jenn  
  
  
*don't hate me because of the last sentence... i have a plan... have had a plan since thread 7! *runs and hides**


	21. Frustration

CHAT  
  
-jenn  
  
18.1  
  
~:~Frustration~:~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix:** what about you? What about your life?  
**peoplesay:** why are you interested?  
  
She bites her lip.  
  
She knows now.  
  
She just isn't sure if she wants to admit it.  
**  
BleedingPhoenix**: because your saving me.  
**peoplesay**: you spelled "you're" wrong by the way.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**:... you're so anal.  
**peoplesay**: that would be the correct use of the word "you're"  
  
She laughs, shakes her head.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: shut up.  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you're just changing the subject. what do you have to hide?  
**peoplesay**: what? me? I'm not hiding anything~  
**peoplesay**: I lived in Ecuador until i was around fifteen, moved here, met you... those are basically the highlights.  
  
There is a moment then when she feels as if the entire world stopped just for this moment. Because even though she had never consciously entertained the possibility that this man might be... could possibly be Vaughn... and had even been glad in her heart that this man would be someone totally different... there was still a sense of disappointment.  
  
She can still see every plane of his face when she closes her eyes. She can see the grief in his eyes as his voice penetrated her system, kissing her softly, begging her to wake up.   
  
She can remember the tone of his voice as the words "I'll never leave you again" erupt from his mouth... can hear the absolute sincerity with which the words had been said.  
  
He had believed them.  
  
She had believed _him._  
  
And now here was the dissapation of fiction.  
  
And she wasn't sure how she felt. She had hated him for what he had done for so long... had loved him even longer than that... was glad that she had seemingly found someone else, was sorry that it hadn't been the man who already held her heart...  
  
**_broken though it is_**  
  
.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: are you serious?  
  
She bites her lip, waiting for the answer.  
  
She doesn't know what she wants, doesn't know what she thinks, doesn't know what she feels.   
  
Or maybe the weird thing is that she does.  
  
  
**peoplesay**: haha, no.   
  
If this were a television show, there were be some sort of zipping noise and then utter and complete silence right about now.  
  
All the thought, the tension, the memories... were for something that he had not been serious about?  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: What?  
**peoplesay**: i was just joking... why... are you frustrated ?  
  
She smiles a little, uncertainly, a little of the humor seeping through.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: umm.. yeah I guess...  
**peoplesay**: serves you right then. No you know what I feel.   
**Bleedingphoenix**: what are you talking about?  
**peoplesay**: do you know _how _long I've wanted to know _everything _about you only to be blocked at every turn?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
okay~ there should be more to this chapter but there isn't because i have to go and this was the first semi-okay stopping point.  
  
is it explained now?   
  
I'll post the rest later... be it today or tomorrow i don't know though   
  
hope you liked it at least a little~  
  
**tbc... more?  
  
-jenn**  
  
R/R please!


	22. At Last

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 18.2  
  
  
At Last   
  
**peoplesay**: i was just joking... why... are you frustrated ?   
  
She smiles a little, uncertainly, a little of the humor seeping through.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: umm.. yeah I guess...  
**peoplesay**: serves you right then. Now you know what I feel.   
**Bleedingphoenix**: what are you talking about?  
**peoplesay**: do you know _how _long I've wanted to know _everything _about you only to be blocked at every turn?  
  
She pauses then.  
  
This is it.  
  
There's no more skirting around the issue, there's no more questions, no more doubts, no more what-ifs, no more wondering.  
  
Because it just _is_.  
  
Finally, it just _is_ and she can barely believe it... doesn't know exactly what to do with it.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: what? really?  
  
**peoplesay**: yeah.  
  
And a breath that she hasn't realized that she has been holding is suddenly released and she can help but wonder just how long it has been held. It could have been since Vaughn's betrayal even... not the same breath of air~ but one just as stale, just as scared... one just as unsure.  
  
**peoplesay**: listen phoenix, you asked me- _demanded_ me what my hands looked like. And I had no idea how to answer that... and the only thing that I can think of is that they're empty. And I don't want them to be anymore.  
  
She looks at the letters on the screen, barely able to believe what is happening... all this happening from her wanting to believe in a thing called normalcy.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you don't even really know me. i don't even really know you.  
  
**peoplesay**: That's what I'm talking about. Maybe we don't really know each other. But I want to.   
**peoplesay**: I think we should meet.  
**peoplesay**: and before you say no, think about it  
**peoplesay**: this is less risk than saying yes to someone asking you out at the supermarket.  
**peoplesay**: we do kind of know eachother.  
**peoplesay**: or at least, I feel as if I know you. I may not have any factual information, i don't know your name or birthday or... what you even look like. But I know how you feel, how you think... what you need.  
  
_"You don't know what you want, Sydney." His words were soft, pleading, face inches away from hers, sadness pouring out of his eyes.   
  
The tears ran down her face.  
  
Her voice was bitter when she spoke. "Yes I do, Vaughn. What have I wanted? You... I want the chance to start my life again... to start **living** again with someone I can trust. I **need** that. And I know that you do too."  
  
She took a breath.  
  
"I know **exactly** what Iwant. It's **you** that's confused." Clenching her jaw, she blinked back the tears until she was composed again, the only sign of her torture being the hollowness in her eyes.   
  
She grabbed the file from the crate, feeling her unwanted kiss burn her lips... remembered the way he had stiffened and pulled away at her touch.  
  
The post-it fluttered to the ground.  
  
She walked away.  
  
Turned right before she opened the door.  
  
Spoke, her voice almost too soft to hear.  
  
"Or maybe you do know what you want. And you're just too afraid to take it when it's right in front of you.   
  
"That's worse... don't you think?"  
  
With those last wooden words, she turned around again and left._  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you think you know what I need?  
  
**peoplesay**: I have an idea. And I figure that if I'm wrong... we'll still be able to figure it out. Together.   
  
All her doubts come flooding back.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: How do I know you're not some 80 year old psychopath?  
  
Her attempt at humor is lost on the screen.  
  
**peoplesay**: It's a thing called trust. In the end, you'll believe what you want.  
  
  
  
She sits, seemingly frozen to the chair, fingers stuck in their positions hovering over the letters h,j,k,l,a,s,d,f; the thumbs over the space bar.  
  
  
  
  
  
_"Can't we do this, Syd? Can't we still at least work together?"  
  
"No."_  
  
  
It's a thing called trust.  
  
  
  
_"This is about our **country** Agent Bristow, not about your own personal whims. It is not for you to decide who you work with and what you do. That is MY job. You WILL go to Peru, you WILL work with Agent Vaughn."  
  
"I don't feel **comfortable** working with Agent Vaughn."  
  
Voice rising.  
  
Tears rising.  
  
**Keep   
  
them  
  
at  
  
bay**  
  
"Your "**comfort**" has very little bearing on my job description."_  
  
  
  
In the end you'll end up believing what you want to believe.  
  
  
  
_"Nothing changes our professional relationship. I'm still looking out for you, Agent Bristow. I've got your back."  
  
**You had my heart.  
  
You broke it.  
  
How can I trust you again?**_  
  
  
  
We should meet.  
  
I think I know what you want. What you need.  
  
  
  
_"You're a f****** pheonix Syd! How many lives do you have?"  
  
  
**i only have one heart  
  
what's life without a heart?**_  
  
  
  
All I know about my hands is that they're empty. And I don't want them to be.  
  
  
  
  
_"I love you... did you know that?"_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Let's do it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc....  
  
  
okay all~ tell me what you thought... this chapter was pretty pivotal i guess... the next might be the last chapter unless i decide to keep on going so let me know~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
more?  
  
  
  
  
-jenn**


	23. Limits of the Heart

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 19  
**Chapter Title**: Limits of the Heart  
  
  
**LYRICS**: Give You Back- Vertical Horizon  
**suggested soundtrack**: Give You Back- Vertical Horizon (**Everything You Want** cd)  
  
  
Limits of the Heart  
  
  
[[_last chapter_]]  
  
  


**QUOTE**

**peoplesay**: I think we should meet.  
**peoplesay**: we do kind of know eachother.  
**peoplesay**: or at least, I feel as if I know you. I may not have any factual information, i don't know your name or birthday or... what you even look like. But I know how you feel, how you think... what you need.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you think you know what I need?  
  
**peoplesay**: I have an idea. And I figure that if I'm wrong... we'll still be able to figure it out. Together.   
  
**peoplesay**: It's a thing called trust. In the end, you'll believe what you want.  
  
We should meet.  
  
I think I know what you want. What you need.  
  
_"You're a f****** pheonix Syd! How many lives do you have?"  
  
  
**i only have one heart  
  
what's life without a heart?**_  
  
  
  
All I know about my hands is that they're empty. And I don't want them to be.  
  
  
  
  
_"I love you... did you know that?"_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: Let's do it.  
  


  
  
---------------------------  
She sits at the computer, staring at the three words that seem glaringly bright to her, surprised by her own audacity, her own... agreement to put her heart out on the line.  
  
Again.  
  
_So what? You're just going to be waiting somewhere and see him and say "hey peoplesay, I'm BleedingPhoenix?"  
  
No, that's stupid.  
  
No, this is stupid.  
  
I spend my life making up stories on the spot and making them sound good... believable. I'm pretty sure I can manage a hello.  
  
And yet... you are still talking to yourself as if anyone can hear or answer back.  
  
Smooth, Syd. _  
  
She opens her closet slowly, something she has procrastinated doing because she knows it would lead to this.  
  
Standing in front of a full wardrobe... and finding absolutely nothing. She hates the indecision of clothes, hates this seemingly inherent belief that all women have that there is THE perfect outfit for every occasion... all you have to do it find it.  
  
She sucks at finding it.  
  
Clothes that look reasonable, feasibly, okay _maybe_ get pulled off their hangers and then are tossed to the floor.   
  
Her room is starting to look like it did when she was a kid. Actually, no. She spent her childhood tidying up after everything so that no one could see the disarray it was really in. The broken ties, the frayed bonds of framily, the stretched definitions of love.   
  
She has never been this messy.  
  
And she hasn't felt this anxiousness in a long time.  
  
Giving up, she walks back to the chair and sits, still in her pajamas.  
  
He hasn't answered.  
  
_is he in shock too?_  
  
She feels so silly all of the sudden, rushing to the computer and typing a conversation with a man she has never seen, never met, never heard, never really _talked_ to... but she does it anyway.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: so... umm... what exactly are we doing?  
  
**peoplesay**: umm... ha~ i'm not exactly sure either.  
  
She doesn't like confusion anymore. She hates indecision, hates worry, doesn't want to think about losing control, trusting someone else again, putting her heart and soul and very body in someone else's hands... but then again, she has to admit that a part of her does.  
  
As much as she longs for control and knowledge and assurance, she still wishes for the dizzy vulnerability, the unexpected surprises... the sheer and unadulterated romance of it all...   
  
he was right  
  
**_i want it  
the love  
the laughter  
the knowledge  
of what love truly is  
to be able  
  
to trust that way again  
  
to be able  
  
to hope that way again  
  
can you get your soul back  
once it's been broken?_**  
  
she wants the romance and the surprises... without the surprises. She'll take what she can get as long as she has an omnipotent knowledge that it will all turn out all right.  
  
And she's sick of it.  
  
There's a time to take risks, to put your heart on the line.  
  
Even if you don't think you have one anymore.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: How far away are you from the Red Box?  
**peoplesay**: the Red Box?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: It's a restaurant... in LA... it has a cafe out front.  
  
**peoplesay**: yeah I know. I'm close.  
  
The jolt of surprise she feels reminds her that she didn't really expect this to happen. Didn't expect to find her healer through a screen... didn't expect him to be so tangible. So easy for her to reach out and get.  
  
_Is normal life really this easy?   
  
**do people with  
normal lives  
normal jobs  
normal hopes  
normal fears  
  
reach out and touch  
something like this  
  
get what they want  
  
every day?**_  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you are?  
  
**peoplesay**: yeah.  
  
She doesn't want to go... but there's no where else. Everywhere she goes she sees him, hears him, wonders how he would react... can still almost smell his light cologne.   
  
But The Red Box... that was where it had all started in the first place.  
  
  
_Sydney picked up her cup of coffee and lifted it to her mouth, peering at Francie over the brim of it. She wanted to tell her so badly about her feelings.  
  
They seemed to be the only thing that she couldn't share with anybody. Not her father, not Will, and especially not Michael himself.  
  
She even opened her mouth a couple times but the words got stuck and she had to take a sip of coffee so she wouldn't look like an imbecile.  
  
As she thought about her pro and con list, even though she was biased, she listened to Francie talk, always keeping at least half a mind on what she was saying.  
  
And then she decided to tell her. After all, she wouldn't know the guy and she would understand and it would give her a plausible reason as to why she was so unwilling to quit.  
  
It was ironic really, that the only person she could tell her innermost feelings towards was the person who knew almost nothing about her. Through no fault of her own.   
  
"I have a crush on a guy at work."  
  
"Really? Who is he?"  
  
Sydney felt almost giddy. She felt the burdens and the pressures of her job lift away. Above all things, Francie was good at listening, reasuring, and saying the perfect things to loosen someone up.   
  
She was no longer Agent Bristow. She was Sydney, just plain old Sydney, talking to her best friend about a guy.  
  
Sydney grinned at her friend. It was such a relief to finally unload. She leaned in, suddenly feeling free and happy to share all the information she had.  
  
"Someone in my department. We've been working together for about a year now."  
  
Francie smiled back. It hadn't been until that moment that she realized exactly how much she had been excluded from Sydney's life. Though she had felt left out at times, this admission really let her know that she had been out of the loop.   
  
"Really... what's his name?"  
  
Sheepishly, she said it. His first name.   
  
"Michael. And he's… I dunno how to describe him. He's smart and he's funny… he's **so** cute."  
  
"Hot cute not goofy gute… ?"  
  
"HOT cute." _  
  
  
She falters for a moment, fights to keep herself from closing the box, forgetting this step, pretending it had never happened...   
  
But she can't.  
  
She doesn't want to.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: can I meet you there?  
  
**peoplesay**: sure. yes. when?  
  
She feels the breath rattling around in her throat.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: around one?   
**peoplesay**: sure.   
**peoplesay**: how will i know you?  
  
She bites her lip.   
  
_"...you... you look really pretty."_  
  
Not that dress.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: I'll be carrying around a Tolstoy.  
  
_"It was long... **really** long... like Tolstoy long."_  
  
**_stopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopit_**  
  
**peoplesay**: and me?  
**BleedingPhoenix**: and you?  
**peoplesay**:... i suppose I'll be carrying a bouquet of flowers.  
  
She smiles.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: good choice.  
  
~:~:~  
  
  
She walks nervously down the street, turning and locking her car with a push of a button. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
She's wearing a tank top. Maroon. And a pair of jeans.   
  
There isn't any disguise in this, there is no formality or a layer or sheen of someone else. This is it and this is what she is presenting.  
  
What she has to offer.  
  
Only herself.  
  
**I need to know if you were real  
'Cause I've been known to get it wrong**  
  
She can see the restaurant coming up~ can see the high roof and the red light that comes from the reflections from the walls and windows. Her breath catches in her throat and she struggled to calm herself down.   
  
She clutches her Tolstoy a little closer to her body, trying to find some sort of comfort in it.  
  
The Red Box is only half a block away now.  
  
**I need to know if you were real  
I'd hate to think that I'd been fooled again**  
  
There's the first cafe table, jutting out. The white of the table contrasted nicely with the rich red shining from the inside of the restaurant and the navy chairs that sit beside it.   
  
It's a nice color scheme.  
  
One that she had helped to pick out.  
  
  
  
And then time freezes.  
  
Because at the distance there is between her body and the restaurant... people are still blurry.  
  
But there's no mistaking that posture.  
  
That build.  
  
There's no mistaking the outline and profile of the person who ripped apart her life.  
  
**And as the vision fades  
I'll say I was blinded by your eyes  
I felt them burn**  
  
And in his hands are a bouquet of daisies.  
  
_"I like daisies."  
  
"Daisies?"  
  
"Yeah. The simplicity that they have... they're so plain. But when you really pick a single daisy and look at it, all singled out... they're beautiful."  
  
He laughed. "And how much time have you spent thinking about this?"_  
  
  
Her whole body is warm, raging hot with emotions that she didn't even know existed. The only question ringing through her body is _"how?"_  
  
How can the man who destroyed her turn out to be her rescuer?  
**I can't remember how it went  
You looked like everything I wanted  
And as you came along  
Slowly everything began to change**  
  
She's still walking, a movement she doesn't understand. It seems impossible that she should still be able to function.  
  
And he turns.  
  
**When the memory comes  
I'll say I'm always in the dark**  
  
Eyes fall on the book.  
  
To her face.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And she's frozen.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**the end?  
  
  
more?  
  
p.s. i really like quote-y reviews   
  
**  
  
  
  
  
-jenn  
  



	24. Indecision

**Okay, Wow you guys… I have NEVER NEVER NEVER had so many people review for a single chapter before… That was like 50+ reviews… And it was also a lovely surprise to come back to after canoeing for the past week with my junior class for our class trip.**

**So originally, CHAT was suppose to end with that last chapter.**

**But I had NO idea that people would end up liking it so much. I didn't even know that that many people read it. So now that I know that there actually are a substantial amount of people who actually care if this ends or continues and because I do have another storyline/plotline to pursue (though it's pretty obvious), I'm going to continue the fic. The following chapter is long… very long… and I hope you like it.**

**Tell me what you think~ **

**As you know, reviews are always appreciated… and have a great deal of power (obviously…) in the plot, continuation, and general tone of the story. Thank you all again~**

**-jenn**

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 20  
**Chapter Title**: Indecision  
  
**Lyrics**:   
**10) You're a God"- Vertical Horizon  
2)"Best I Ever Had"- Vertical Horizon**  
3) You Say- Vertical Horizon  
4) Finding Me- Vertical Horizon  
5) Miracle- Vertical Horizon  
**6) Give you Back- Vertical Horizon**  
**7) Walk On- U2  
8) The Scientist- Coldplay  
9) God Put a Smile Upon Your Face**  
**10) I Shall Believe- Sheryl Crow**  
  
(the ones in bold have music fitting the chapter; the other ones just have fitting lyrics)  
  
**Suggested Sountrack**: the bolded songs   
**Dedications**: valleygirl2, Egyptian Kat, Reverie, plum, quack!, Little Syd, Agent Vick, Mo  
  
  
But there's no mistaking that posture.  
  
That build.  
  
There's no mistaking the outline and profile of the person who ripped apart her life.  
  
**And as the vision fades  
I'll say I was blinded by your eyes  
I felt them burn**  
  
And in his hands are a bouquet of daisies.  
  
_"I like daisies."  
  
"Daisies?"  
  
"Yeah. The simplicity that they have... they're so plain. But when you really pick a single daisy and look at it, all singled out... they're beautiful."  
  
He laughed. "And how much time have you spent thinking about this?"_  
  
  
Her whole body is warm, raging hot with emotions that she didn't even know existed. The only question ringing through her body is _"how?"_  
  
How can the man who destroyed her turn out to be her rescuer?  
**I can't remember how it went  
You looked like everything I wanted  
And as you came along  
Slowly everything began to change**  
  
She's still walking, a movement she doesn't understand. It seems impossible that she should still be able to function.  
  
And he turns.  
  
**When the memory comes  
I'll say I'm always in the dark**  
  
Eyes fall on the book.  
  
To her face.  
  
  
  
And she's frozen.  
  
  
  
There's a little voice inside of her telling that that it can't be true. That there are thousands of people in Los Angeles, approximately half of them being male.  
  
And because she has that belief, she keeps on walking.  
  
Until it's not a question anymore.  
  
_I love you… did you know that?_  
  
She vaguely senses that the hand holding the Tolstoy to her is trembling. It doesn't seem possible… but there are his eyes, holding on to hers, there he is… standing there.  
  
To close to be imagining things.  
  
And he's opening his mouth to talk.  
  
**I've gotta be honest  
I think you know**  
  
"Syd…"  
  
**We're covered in lies and that's okay.**  
  
He walks over to her, closing the space that was between them, his heart breaking at the sight of the fear in her eyes.  
  
**There's somewhere beyond this I know  
But I hope I can find the words to say**  
  
She doesn't move away, doesn't move a muscle as he slowly places a hand on her arm.   
  
Tolstoy thuds to the pavement, forgotten… as forgotten as the tendril of hair that has come free from her ponytail.  
  
**'Cause you're a God**  
  
He tucks it behind her ear for her, wanting desperately for her to move, to talk… he's never seen her so vulnerable.  
  
The motion throws her from her shock as she suddenly realizes her surroundings, her setting, the person she is standing on the street with… this is all reality. And she comes tumbling from one shock head first into another.  
  
Her voice is small, timid, scared, frightened, and utterly unsure as she says his name. "Vaughn?"  
  
**And I am not**  
  
He tries a small smile. Tentative. Barely able to cover his own shock. "Yeah. It's me."  
  
Her features seem to ice up once again, her face turning into steel in front of his very eyes. She doesn't even look human anymore… except for the tears that fill her eyes.  
  
Hastily, she bends down to pick up the Tolstoy, using the motion to quickly wipe at her eyes. When she's back up, most of the shock and emotion has left her face. She sweeps a gaze across his face, down his body, ending at the bouquet of daisies he has in his hand.   
  
Moisture floods her eyes again.   
  
**_peoplesay_**_: I think we should meet.  
**peoplesay**: we do kind of know eachother.  
**peoplesay**: or at least, I feel as if I know you. I may not have any factual information, i don't know your name or birthday or... what you even look like. But I know how you feel, how you think... what you need.  
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: you think you know what I need?  
  
**peoplesay**: I have an idea. And I figure that if I'm wrong... we'll still be able to figure it out. Together.   
  
**peoplesay**: It's a thing called trust. In the end, you'll believe what you want._  
  
She looks at him in confusion, still not wanting to believe that it's him in front of her, the liquid pooling dangerously in her eyes.  
  
She bites her lip, thinks about saying something, changes her mind and leaves.  
  
And he's left watching her as she walks away from him.  
  
**So you sailed away  
Into a grey sky morning  
Now I'm here to stay  
**  
  
Despite the fact that he's absolutely floored, he's not stupid.  
  
He can't let this happen.  
  
Not again.  
  
Not after he saw what he did to her. What he had done to himself.  
  
"Syd!" There's a pain and a crack evident in his voice but she doesn't listen. She doesn't turn, doesn't care, doesn't _want_ to know. Normalcy was a deception. Nothing is normal. Especially for her.  
  
She's walking down, face pointed at the pavement, counting the cracks that spread like spider-webs under her feet.  
  
**_my_****_ world  
is falling out from under me_**  
  
The tears are sliding down her face and she can't stop it. She doesn't want to stop it.  
  
And for the first time, she lets herself go.  
  
She reaches her car, lays her hand on the already warm hood, and slumps down until she's kneeling on the sidewalk and her head is buried in her arms and she's sobbing and creating a spectacle and she _knows_ that there are people looking at her but she doesn't care.  
  
Because this time, she _wants_ people to see her.   
  
She wants them to know she exists.  
  
**Where do we go nobody knows?  
I've gotta say I'm on my way down**  
  
  
  
She flinches as she feels his hands on her, carefully bringing her up, handling her as if she's broken, hugging her to him, supporting her weight, turning her so that she's facing him, her eyes red and pain evident from every inch of her. She's beautiful.  
  
**God give me style and give me grace**  
  
She crumples in his grasp, her voice hoarse, all the torrents of emotion crashing through the floodgates and leaving her gasping, grabbing for a lifeline that she knows doesn't exist.  
  
"Why?" Her words are almost air and he can barely hear her.  
  
She looks up at his, her eyes flashing with something close to hate but most definitely misery. "Why did it have to be _you_?"  
  
He doesn't know what to say.  
  
**Where do we go to draw the line?  
Where do I go to fall from grace?**  
  
He did this to her.  
  
She squirms out of his grasp, pushing him away from her, feeling his touch sear and burn itself on her skin. Her words are not a scream but a harsh hush of a whisper. "I **_loved_** you Michael. I LOVED you and you just **threw me away** like you didn't even care. And don't even _try_ to tell me that you _did_. How you loved me but couldn't do anything about it. _Don't_ tell me to put myself in your position. Don't try to _make me think that you suffered as much as I did._"  
  
**But you're coming back again  
  
Don't tell me  
how to be  
Don't ask me  
what I need**  
  
Her throat hurts from the strain, the harshness of her tone, the glaring bitterness that laces her every word. "You could have _stayed_. But you couldn't do that could you? You had to keep your rules and you had to stand by them and you didn't even **look back**. Where were you when I needed you? And then it _had to be you_ who found me? YOU who decided that I was some sort of _project_ to be fixed?"  
  
Her angry whisper laced with her near-tangible anguish tears him apart more than if she had slapped him.  
  
She's speaking too loudly.   
  
Anyone can hear her.  
  
Anyone can kill her.  
  
Anyone can kill him.  
  
So she clenches her jaw and opens the car door, her nerves shaking her to her very core. Gets in, puts on her seatbelt, placing the Tolstoy on the passenger seat.  
  
She watches as her handler stands there, eyes almost closed, guilt washing over him.   
  
This time _he's_ frozen.   
  
The daisies fall from his hand.  
  
**Here in the light  
It burns you up inside  
Here in the shell of the sun  
We echo on  
  
Too much listening  
Not enough living**  
  
And then he's standing in front of the car, his strained face looking at her through the windshield. "Syd…"  
  
She doesn't want to hear more.  
  
She turns the ignition and hears the engine hum. Wipes away her tears.   
  
**_how_****_ is it   
that in a city like this  
it's possible  
to meet the same  
perfect person  
twice  
  
break me_**  
  
"Sydney… I'm _sorry_."  
  
it's  
  
not  
  
enough  
  
to just say  
  
"I'm sorry"  
  
anymore.  
  
The engine revs dangerously in front of him and the look on her face hurts too much. He never wanted to cause her this pain.   
  
**It's taken much too long  
To get it right  
Would it be so wrong  
To maybe find someone  
A miracle**  
  
**_if I cause  
so much hurt  
so much pain  
and cause her to break  
like she is  
  
maybe I should  
just   
let her be_**  
  
His face betrays his every emotion and she can see exactly what he's thinking. And then he moves away and lets her leave.  
  
And she steps on the pedal, drives back towards where she came from.  
  
Not sure whether or not she wanted him to let her leave.  
  
**But what you miss is love  
in everything below and up above  
  
All you wanted was a miracle  
All you needed was a miracle  
  
It's taken so long to get it right  
Could it be so wrong  
To maybe find somebody?**  
  
  
He bites his lip, watching her leave, memorizing the shape of her profile as she drives off.  
  
Not knowing if he should have let her leave.  
  
**He always seems to be letting her go when he should be holding on.**  
  
  
  
  
:::::::  
  
  
  
She's trapped in her room between her bed and her table.   
  
The bed where she has had too many dreams, thought too many thoughts, remembered too many memories… and the table on which her computer sat, looking at her with its blank screen. Taunting her. She closes her eyes, letting the darkness envelop her entire self with its richness and sadistic comfort.   
  
**_it's_****_ nice  
to not be able to see  
the life  
I live_**  
  
With her eyes closed, she picks up the wine glass at her side and lets the smooth liquid tip gently into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of it.   
  
And then she lets herself cry.  
  
_fooled__ me once, shame on you.  
fooled me twice, shame on me_  
  
It's soft, silent for the most part. But her world is thrashing.  
  
And she doesn't know where to get a new one.  
  
**Nobody said it was easy  
It's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be this hard  
**  
  
She wraps the blanket tighter around her, wanting to feel the pressure around her, reminding her that she can feel.   
  
**Take me back to the start**  
  
And the memories flood.  
  
_As soon as she saw the distant spark in his eye- perhaps the thing she had been looking for all along- she felt embarrassed, as if she had been caught trespassing or stealing from a loved one. She heard and felt the blood rushing to her face at the intimacy of what she had just uncovered…**might** have uncovered. She looked down quickly, suddenly finding her shoes incredibly interesting- unsure of what to do, unused to not being sure of herself or not being in total control.   
  
And it was then that she felt his fingers come up softly under her chin, applying pressure and bringing her face back up, gently making her meet his gaze.   
  
"Syd," he began softly, "whatever it is, work-related or not, you can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything you want. Okay? **Anything**."  
  
Her vision seemed to get fuzzy around the edges at her words, she wasn't sure whether she could believe his words, whether he could possibly know what exactly his words seemed to connote. And denote.   
  
So instead, she shook her head of all the little scenarios that ran through her head and her imagination that all started with her stating, "All right Vaughn, I'll tell you what's bothering me. What's bothering me is the fact that I have to work with someone who I'm in love with but forbidden to have emotional and personal contact with. Being here, standing in front of you, watching you when you debrief me, listening when you speak, closing my eyes and smelling your cologne… that's what's eating me alive. Because I can't have you. But you're all I have."   
  
But because there were too many different replies she could have received…   
  
  
  
  
She stayed silent._  
  
it's  
  
too  
  
hard  
  
**and you tell me that it's over  
and you don't wanna be here in the future   
so you say the present's just a pleasant interruption to the past   
and you don't wanna look much closer   
cuz your afraid to find out all this hope  
you had sent into the sky by now had crashed   
and it did   
because of me**  
  
**_BleedingPhoenix_**_: yes. you can.   
**peoplesay**: how many people –that you loved- have you lost?  
  
  
Her blood freezes for a moment. That question was definitely not fluffed up.   
  
**BleedingPhoenix**: more than I care to remember. Looking at my record, I wouldn't be surprised if I've been destroying lives since before I was born._  
  
Karma.  
  
Payback's a bitch. But a mighty fine one. There's no better way to rip someone apart than to take away everything they have been trying to hold on to.  
  
**_BleedingPhoenix_**_: and whose life have I made better exactly?  
  
**peoplesay**: mine._  
  
A loud sob erupts from her throat before she can stop and it and the sound is that of a dying animal and it eve hurts herself to hear it coming from her. She clenches on her throat, muffling the sounds, allowing it to reverberate in her body instead, shaking her to her very core.  
  
Bites her lips so hard that she can almost taste blood.  
  
Reaches for the wine again.  
  
_With large, broad strokes, she marks a large X on the words.  
  
And starts again.   
  
  
_

The Beginning- for nothing else- no date, no time, no place- matters   
  
Peoplesay I bleed.  
Peoplesay I need to confide.  
Peoplesay I'm hiding.  
Peoplesay they can help heal me. Stop my bleeding, let me scar, and start over.  
  
Peoplesay may not be God.   
  
But I am beginning to believe what peoplesay.

  
  
Naïve little girl.  
  
She never thought she would use that adjective to describe her again.  
  
She gives up trying to stop herself and drains the rest of the glass, leaning her hell on the wall, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself and letting the hot tears drop. It doesn't matter that they burn on her skin. She's already been burned so many times it doesn't matter anymore.  
  
~:~  
  
**Come up to meet you  
Tell you I'm sorry  
You don't know how lovely you are.**  
  
He takes a deep breath before walking out of his car, a million different emotions running through his head, filling him with insecurity and guilt… and maybe a little fear.   
  
He loves her.  
  
And that's why he doesn't understand how he can hurt her so much.  
  
**I had to find you  
Tell you I need you  
Tell you I set you apart**  
  
  
He bites his lip nervously, wondering if he should have brought anything, knowing that it wouldn't have mattered.   
  
She would either talk to him or not.   
  
_Whisper.__  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
Tears in his eyes.  
  
He moved away, her hand fell back onto the sheets. Worry alighted her eyes then, fear filled her heart, anguished flooded her throat and her eyes were blank, automatically compartmentalizing, instinctively knowing what would come, what would hurt, what would maim, what would kill...  
  
Her jaw clenched as her vision blurred unnaturally.  
  
Distortion.  
  
Her teeth hurt.  
  
"Tell me... Tell me it's alright."  
  
"Vaughn...?"  
  
He cleared his throat. "Agent Bristow... I sincerely hope that you will get better soon and that we will see each other again soon when you are in better shape."   
  
He lowered his face so that it's pointing towards the ground and spoke quickly, his back towards her. "We can't do this, you know we can't do this."  
  
"Yes you can. Yes we can. You can't walk out on me now.   
  
"Tell me that we're going to be okay." Her voice was a whisper.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Syd... I... I can't." _  
  
He swallows, feeling his throat starting to constrict already. He standing in front of her door.   
  
If he strains hard enough, he can convince himself that he hears her crying on the other side.  
  
_God, I'm so sorry, I'msosorry, i'msosorry, sosorry sosorry…_  
  
And he knocks on the door.  
  
**And love is not an easy thing  
The only baggage you can bring is all   
That you can't leave behind**  
  
There's a voice at the other side of the door. "Who is it?"  
  
She's been crying.  
  
And drinking.  
  
**And if your glass heart should crack   
And for a second you turn back   
Oh no, be strong**  
  
He clears his throat. "It's- It's me."  
  
The door cracks open.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****…  
  
more?  
  
  
  
  
Hehe~ I told you it was gonna be 12 pages on Word Hoped you liked it though… I know it was angsty *shrug*… (but if it helps… I always write my best fluff after a buttload of angst )  
  
-jenn**


	25. Fragments

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 21  
**Chapter Title**: Fragments  
**Summary**: _Sometimes trying to put the pieces back together only makes them fall further apart._  
**Dedications: Katiqua, plum, steph, sarah, becky, minirussel, Desand **  
  
  
Fragments  
  
  
_"Can I come in?" _  
  
She sees the way that the light hits his face, the way his hair is obviously disheveled, the way his green eyes almost seem to _crinkle_ in despair. She hears the strain in his voice, the way the words are stressed strangely and in the wrong way, completely opposite to his normal intonation.  
  
But by now she knows that it doesn't matter that this Michael Vaughn doesn't seem like himself. Because no matter whom she is led to believe it is, it doesn't matter. It always comes back to him. It always _is_ him.  
  
And she's tired of being led.  
  
"No," she says and shuts the door.   
  
But he knew before he even got out of his car that she would do that. This is Sydney Bristow.  
  
The person he knows better that he knows his own desires.  
  
So he sticks his foot in the door, uses it as a wedge to maneuver himself in one move through the crack so that it stays open.  
  
And she's still watching him.  
  
"Sydney… I _have_ to talk to you. _Can I come in?_"  
  
There's a moment of brief and complete silence where he can see her just looking at him in disbelief, making him feel as if he had just asked the stupidest question in the world.  
  
And when she speaks, her voice is incredulous. "Can you _what_?"  
  
He gulps, tries again for the third time. "Can I come in?"  
  
"…Why?"  
  
Everything had seemed so clear when he was driving here to her house… everything had seemed so crystal clear… even as he was parking, even as he walked up the path to her house. And now… now it was pretty ridiculous. The idea that he could just walk here and be able to win her back, gain her forgiveness with a few well-chosen words. Preposterous, really.  
  
He has no idea what to do.  
  
And so he starts laughing.  
  
It's a kind of sad, desperate laughter. The kind where the sound is a bit strangled… strained… attempting to show a humor that doesn't exist. Because what else can he do? And then there's a revelation. "You… you think it was easy for me."  
  
The door opens a little wider, showing half her face now. And the confused facial expression that is etched upon it. "You have _no_ idea what I _think_. What I feel."  
  
He takes a step closer, so abruptly that he sees the flash of sudden surprise come into her face as he stands inches away from her face. "That's where you're wrong, Syd. You think that I don't know… that I don't care. That because I _hurt_ you, I must not feel anything at all. But Syd… what I did… it ruined my life as much as it hurt yours."  
  
It's her turn to laugh now but it's the same kind of strained laughter. Nothing's really funny. "I find that hard to believe, Michael."  
  
He's trying to find the right words… the perfect words to make her understand. But they keep running away from him. He sees the indecision on her face… sees herself questioning herself about what she is doing. Why she is standing here, talking to the one man she hates? The one man she loves.   
  
He can't let her shut the door again.  
  
"It's like snippets. Fragments. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
She doesn't but can't help but be caught in the earnestness in his face. The way that his hurt and sorry and desperation are distorted together to form a kind of sincerity that she has never seen before.  
  
"Leaving you there in that room… it was the hardest thing that I ever had to do. The most _selfish_ thing that I have ever had to do. Sydney, believe it or not, I _need_ you. I need you like I need breath… the way that I need to have my heart keep pumping. To be able to see you everyday, to know that you're safe and within reach… even if I can't have you is _essential_ to me. It's so ingrained, so deep within me that I don't even know if I can live without your smile and without your voice..."   
  
It could be the moonlight but she can almost swear that she sees tears in his eyes. Or maybe she's just looking at him through her own.  
  
"And… with every day that goes by, all I am left with is a trace of your touch on my arm, the whisper of a breath…" he smiles ruefully, "the fragrance of Tolstoy."  
  
He looks so lost.   
  
So innocent.  
  
And then, somehow, he's in her living room, 2 feet away from her, looking at her with those eyes and that sad smile. "I never meant to leave you."   
  
His words are so soft.  
  
She can't help but cry.  
  
"Don't cry, Syd. Please..." His words trail off because he's not sure if he's allowed to be saying them. Who is _he_ to tell her what emotions to feel? What actions to execute?  
  
Even before, Sydney Bristow was never a person who could be pushed around.  
  
And as if she hears his every thought, she raises her head slightly, eyes connecting with him even more solidly, allows him to see the full view of her watery eyes, the pain that cascades down her cheeks with each tear drop.   
  
Her whisper is menacing, full of hurt. "Don't. Tell. Me. When. To. Cry."  
  
She tilts her head slightly to the right side, her eyebrows bunching together slightly, her entire face becoming a little more animated and he knows that she's getting ready to speak. Getting ready to hurt him.  
  
And he knows that he deserves every word.  
  
"Who _are you_ to tell when to cry and when to hold it in? Vaughn, I've been **holding it in** for the past 7 years and if you haven't noticed, I've been doing pretty well. Until today. When can I cry, Michael? When am I _allowed_ to cry?" Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, " After you break my heart another time? Maybe one more time after that? Or should we make it a nice and easy-to-remember number like 5? Does 5 sound nice?"  
  
And with her words, shame fills him to his very core, enters his bloodstream and makes him sick to his stomach. He looks up with hooded eyes, meeting her gaze. His tone is defeated, his words useless. "What… what do you want me to _do_?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing. Because what I want… what I really _want_ is for you to be able to take all the time and make it disappear. Don't you get it? I want to be back in the room, waiting for you to come back with a smug expression on your face and I want you to walk back to me and look into my eyes. I want to be able to hear you say "Sydney, they wanted me to give up on you." And then I want to hear you laugh like that's the _funniest_ thing in the world."  
  
She looks up at him, her voice catching and hitching as slow liquid begins to enter into her eyes again. "I want to be back there and hear you talk about how _impossible_ it was for them to even think about coming between us when we had just found each other. For you to shake your head and laugh again: "They wanted _me_ to **give up** on _YOU_.""   
  
She raises her head, trying to smile through tears, trying to compartmentalize, trying to hide how much she is failing. Takes a shaky breath. "I can see it so clearly in my head." She smiles tearfully and looks up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. "I can _see_ it Vaughn. See it like it's a memory. Like it actually happened. That you laughed and then sat by me and kissed my forehead. That you looked deeply into my eyes and smiled until all the doubt vanished from mine. That you would say that _no matter **what**_ they did to you or to me, they could never do anything to _us_. Because that was all that mattered." She stops abruptly and bites her lip, walking back to the door, opening it for him.  
  
Watching him out of the corner of her eye as he walks slowly over and across the room, dumbfounded and humbled. Hit by pure emotion.   
  
There's a moment where you are neither in the house nor out of the house… where you can't feel the room temperature at your back anymore and know that the cold wind will hit you in the next second.  
  
That's where Vaughn is when he turns again, ready to make another half-hearted attempt. "Syd-"  
  
She cuts him off.  
  
"-Vaughn… I believed in us. And I see what you could have done.   
  
"I just don't understand why you didn't _do_ it."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc…  
  
more?**  
  
  
  
  
-jenn


	26. Abgefegt

**For all my ff.net readers who were distressed by the angsty-ness of the last chapter because I said that I wrote my best fluff after a buttload of angst… I should probably define "buttload"…  
  
buttload: _adj._ a whole bunch of; a fic-full of **  
  
**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 22  
**Chapter Title**: Abgefegt Swept Off  
**Language requirements** (I apologize in advance if myJ: German  German is off… I've been taking it for 2 years so it might be… er… not perfect )  
**Dedications**: valley-girl2, Alias_Fan1122, alli, tessa  
**Lyrics**:   
RESPECT- _Aretha __Franklin_  
Trouble- _Coldplay_  
Shine- _Clay Aiken_  
  
**Mission Tools**: (haha… I'm a dork) w w w. dictionary . com / translate     (I have to put the spaces in between because ff.net will not let me post the chapter otherwise)  
  
**Suggested Soundtrack**: Go to this site: http : // w w w. michaelgiacchino. com / aliasmusic. html   (once again, take out the spaces)  
  
and listen to "Bristow and Bristow" for the beginning mission part and then er… I dunno… something else for the later bits~  
  
  
  
Abgefegt  
  
  
She walks briskly down the hallway, the slight breeze rushing past her legs as the slit of her evening gown rushes open and closed with every step she takes. She smiles at the guard. "Guten Abend."  
  
"Guten Abend, Fräulein…"  
  
She smiles at him before correcting his mistake. "Frau. Frau Mendel. Mein Mann ist jetzt zu Hause aber er wird später kommen. Ist dass OK?"  
  
The guards nods and allows her to enter. "Jawohl. Haben Sie ein gute Zeit, Frau Mendel."  
  
"Danke."  
  
She finds her way through the crowd, glances once into a mirror hanging from the wall, making sure her coifed hair is in place and using the opportunity to nod slightly at the man standing next to the fountain.  
  
Michael Vaughn turns as soon as she's out of sight. "Mountaineer has confirmed entry."  
  
"Use the coin."  
  
Nodding, he walks over to the waiter, obtains a glass of champagne. Drops a coin next to the wall separating the room from the security men on the other side.   
  
"Drop completed."  
  
"Be ready to get out of there, Agent Vaughn. In 5… 4… 3… 2… 1"  
  
The lights fizzle and go out, followed by a collective "ooh" from the party guests… and then utter pandemonium as it is realized that the lights are not part of some show.   
  
Vaughn speeds through the crowd, not noticed by anyone in the total darkness and reaches the hallway. Pulling a pick from the sole of his shoe, he bends down in front of the door and deftly twists it in the lock until there is a barely audible click.   
  
He quickly slides a paper-thin device under the door and waits for 20 seconds until he hears 5 thuds, the noise that comes from bodies hitting floors, and then opens the door.  
  
Moving all the guards into a corner of the room, he ties them together before re-locking the door and adjusting himself into the chair and looking at the screens in front of him. "Mountaineer, we're in the system. Five cameras on the third floor, the safe should be behind a painting of Boticelli's _Primavera_."  
  
Spinning to another monitor, he speedily enters a code, turning the lights back on. "Herr Jager, es tun uns Leid. Wir hatten ein kleines Problem aber es ist jetzt ganz OK."  
  
The voice on the other line grunts assent and Vaughn watches as the host of the party stands in front of the crowd, apologizing for the small glitch and inviting them out to the garden for some music and refreshments.  
  
Nodding, Agent Michael Vaughn turns back to the third floor monitors. "All right Sydney, there are three guards around the perimeter of the main room, each armed with tranqs. And an additional handgun. It should be fine."  
  
He watches as she slinks across the wall, her evening gown discarded in the corner of the wall- now clad in the same outfit she was wearing when he first saw her. Minus the red wig.   
  
_"I'm not trying to play you."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
"Do you need the name of a dentist?"_  
  
She looks directly into the camera and nods, a slight movement of her chin before she disappears from the camera angle. He follows her steadily with his eyes for a moment before setting up the PDA system and hooking it to the computers.   
  
"Sir, uploading the security system to the CIA computers now."  
  
"Copy that, Boy Scout. Jager uses a Bonvinci system but has a Tschievyzc for the safe itself."  
  
"Copy. Syd, did you get that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He watches as she takes out a guard without flinching, coming from behind him with an elbow to the head and slips into the room, using the security pass she took from the guard at the door.  
  
There's a knock on the door. "Sicherheit? Warum hatte ich keine Statusbestätigung bekommen?"  
  
Vaughn turns in his chair, fear illuminating his eyes for a second before welcome adrenaline runs through his body again, giving him the thrill he used to live for. "Entschuldigung, Herr Jager. Alles ist ordentlich."  
  
"Wer bist du? Öffnen Sie die Tür sofort!"  
  
_Sh__*t_.  
  
"Sir, Boy Scout calling for… help. Is it all right to take him out?"  
  
There's a pause.  
  
"Go for it."  
  
"Komme ich."  
  
He walks over to the device he had used earlier, turns it over and slides out the little generator attached to the bottom of the smooth metal.   
  
Looks up when he hears the smooth unlocking of the door.   
  
Looks into the face of Herr Jager.  
  
Accented English. "Ah. I was wondering if you would come. But now that I know, I'm afraid that you won't be leaving."  
  
  
  
---Three days earlier---  
  
  
  
**I spun a web, it's tangled up with me,  
And I lost my head**  
  
Her eyes clash with his across the table, looking up into his as soon as she sees the words. _s__***_. No matter how hard she tries to move on, how hard she tries to heal herself, it never works. She will never be free from him.  
  
He sees the look in her eyes and another little part of him dies. It's impossible to keep track now, he's been hurting her for so long. His whole body aches, though not with any sort of physical pain. It's all psychological… and it comprises itself from guilt and shame. Why the hell couldn't he have explained it to her? What was it about her gaze that unleveled even the most determined man?  
  
**The thought of all the stupid things I said,  
O no, what's this?  
A spider web, and I'm caught in the middle,  
I turned to run,  
The thought of all the stupid things I've done**  
  
A glance at the report in front of him informs him as to why she looks so resigned.   
  
They were going to Germany.  
  
Together.  
  
She clears her throat, measuring her actions carefully. Looks up at Kendall with a question in her eyes. "Sir… this mission has a duration for at least two weeks. How will my absence be explained to SD-6?"  
  
Kendall looks at her with a swift upward glance. "SD-6 will soon find something of their own interest there. Your father will make sure that you are the one assigned to go."  
  
"And how will I be able to dodge Dixon for the next two weeks?"  
  
"Dixon's not going to go, Agent Bristow. This calls for a solo mission."  
  
"A _solo_ mission? SD-6 doesn't even assign those- there's always another person working surveillance-"  
  
"-Agent Bristow… for once could you please trust that the information will come? That all your questions will be answered in time?"  
  
She bites her lip in order to stop whatever retort was about to erupt from her mouth. "Yes sir."  
  
"Good. Now as you all know, in addition to our extensive attempts over the years to shut down the SD-cells, there are about a dozen active and large-scale terrorist groups out there who have major contacts in the United States. Now we can say it's a baker's dozen."  
  
Kendall slides the manila folder onto the desk. "A fledgling group led by someone so unreachable that we don't even have a name for him. The group calls itself 'The Covenant'. We don't know what they do, we don't know what they want, we don't even know what country they are based in. All we know is that they want the SSG."  
  
Michael reaches over and takes the folder in his hands, regarding it. "System Strahl-Generator? What is it?"  
  
"In English, it's the System Ray Generator. With this, they will be able to not only tap into our Echelon system, they will be able to convince any onlookers that the tap is legit. There is no limit as to how powerful and destructive this can be in the wrong hands."  
  
Sydney looks up, clearing her throat. "Who's in possession of it now?"  
  
"A man by the name of Johannes Jager. Our contact in Marburg has informed us of the sale of this generator off the black market last week. We have since tracked it to Jager's residence and," he smiled, "discovered that he's planning on throwing a party in three days."  
  
Sydney looks over the mission specs, jaw clenching slightly at the information on the page. Gabrielle Mendel. Married to Jakob Mendel.   
  
She looks across the table, sees the confirmation in his eyes.   
  
She's married to Michael Vaughn.  
  
-----  
  
"So Sloane okay-ed the mission?"  
  
She looks at his face, seeing his attempt to make conversation. "I don't think I would be here if he didn't."  
  
"Right." There's a moment of silence where he tries to collect his thoughts. "Syd-"  
  
"-Vaughn," she turns sharply so that she is facing him. "Don't. Just… just don't."  
  
He nods, a little too quickly, a little too sharply. "Okay."   
  
They both turn back so that both look forward, able to see the other out of the corners of their eyes.  
  
He reaches out the inches between them and covers her hand for a moment before standing up. "I'll see you soon."  
  
She's still stiff from the sudden contact. All she can manage is a nod before she crosses her arms.  
  
**You can try to hide away  
From every drop of rain  
That's hanging over you  
And you can say it's all a waste.  
Lost your time in space.  
There's nothing left to lose.  
Like a broken angel on the ground, like a symphony without a sound.  
Turn around. **  
  
She watches silently as his familiar silhouette walks away and out the door, leaving her alone in the warehouse. The place of pain. The place of hope. She bends over slowly until she's leaning her cheek against the surface of the tiny table, still sitting down on the crate under her.  
  
**Everybody knows  
Shadows fall across the sun sometimes**  
  
She closes her eyes, taking it all in, preparing herself for what's to come.  
  
**In the mirror of your soul  
I know that you know, you are not forsaken.  
Hey butterfly open up your weary eyes,   
and realize it's a trip we're taking.  
And the world will turn around again.  
And your shattered heart is going to mend.  
In the end.**  
  
Taking a deep breath, she stands up and walks out to her car.  
  
----  
  
She sits down in her seat, fastening her seatbelt before quickly glancing at the blonde head of Jakob Mendel 8 rows in front of her. 8 more hours.  
**Hey butterfly, open up your weary eyes.**  
  
  
  
  
… MARBUR**G**…  
  
There's a knock at her door.   
  
"Who is it?" It's a stupid question. She knows who it is. The only person it could be at this time.   
  
"It's me. I have your outfit."  
  
She walks over and opens the door joining their two hotel rooms and runs a hand through her hair. No doubt it will be another color within the next hour. He walks into the room, a little hesitative, and hands her a garment bag.   
  
She wishes that she could look at him without reacting but he's standing there in his tux, an expectant look on his face… and she can't truthfully say that there is ever a time when Michael Vaughn is not gorgeous. She unzips the bag and takes out the dress. "I'll be ready in a few minutes. You can stay here if you want to."  
  
Michael nods and she walks into the bathroom.   
  
The dress is silky, a deep maroon that clings and releases in all the right places, comes with matching shoes and a slit up the right side.   
  
**What you want, Baby I got it. **  
  
Takes her curling iron and plugs it in.  
  
**What you need, you know I got it. **  
  
Slips on the shoes, careful not to step on the bottom of her dress.   
  
**All I'm asking, is for a little respect   
when you come home.  
Yeah, Baby.  
When you come home  
  
0  
  
"Michael?"**  
  
He looks up from the television, unable to stop the slight smile that comes over his face when he sees her in the doorway. He picked the perfect dress. "You look beautiful, Sydney."  
  
_"You… you look really pretty."_  
  
She flushes, forcing herself to ignore the sudden panic that comes over her as the memory hits. "Thanks."  
  
"Did you call the car?"  
  
"Jawohl, mein Liebling," he smiles a little and offers his arm, "Kann ich dich zum Auto eskortieren?"  
  
She tells herself that it's all right because they're in character.   
That it's normal and natural for her to take his arm.  
For her to look at him like she loves him.  
For her to act like she's his wife.  
Because she's Gabrielle Mendel.   
And Gabrielle is allowed to love this man.  
  
"Danke… so you're going to go in first right?"  
  
"Yeah. Let me know when you're in okay?"  
  
She nods, hearing his earnestness.  
  
"And be careful."  
  
She smiles softly. "I always am."   
_If only on missions._  
  
~:~  
  
She walks briskly down the hallway, the slight breeze rushing past her legs as the slit of her evening gown rushes open and closed with every step she takes. She smiles at the guard. "Guten Abend."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****…   
  
  
more?**  
  
  
okay okay... i know i know... it's really different... it's really weird... and I'm not entirely sure why I did it and I don't think that I even like it that much... the only reason I'm posting this JJ-esque plot change is because I'm too lazy to change it.  
  
So I'm sorry if it sucks... i'm not going to delete it... but I'll try to salvage what there might be left to salvage   
  
-jenn


	27. How Does It Feel?

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 23  
**Chapter Title**: How Does It Feel?  
**Dedications: Emily, Charley/47, tessa, Christina**  
**Lyrics and Suggested Soundtrack:** _How Does it Feel?_- Radford  
**Languages**: French and mebbe a lil' German but you won't need a translator… I'll be nice this time and I'm really really sorry if I butcher the languages or render them completely lakvjrnvlskergbslkjdfbg~   
**Archived**: FanFiction, SD-1, AllAlias, CoverMe  
**Distribution**: sure… just let me know so I can check in once in awhile   
  
23.  
  
How Does It Feel?  
  
_"Ah. I was wondering if you would come. But now that I know, I'm afraid that you won't be leaving."_  
  
She freezes at the sound of the lilting German accent, her blood coming to a sudden stop in her veins. She knows inside of her what is happening. Who it's happening to. But she refuses to believe it, somehow manages to fumble the combination open perfectly, somehow manages to stick her trembling hands into the vault without touching the lasers, somehow manages to pull the SSG out completely intact despite the way her eyes are burning.  
  
People say that in times of shock, when your world is turned upside down and nothing makes sense anymore because there _is_ nothing else except for the one blaring truth, everything goes slowly. That the seconds themselves trickle past in a slow descent to fact. To actuality.  
  
That's not true.  
  
She doesn't know where the time went, doesn't understand how now she's running in the corridor, slinking down the walls, staying out of the camera's eyes like nobody's business when she can't even think.  
  
_vaughnvaughnvaughnvaughnvaughnvaughn_  
  
The voice comes crackling over the comm. link like a cracked record. "Who do you work for?"  
  
The response is immediate. "French mafia," and then in hushed quiet tones, "Faites-confiance moi. Allez-vous en." _Trust me. Go._ She hears his urgency, knows it in her bones that the last part of that sentence was directed towards her.  
  
She knows that he wants her to leave without him, to save herself.  
  
But she also knows that he doesn't think she actually will.   
  
"Mit wem sprichst du?" _Who are you talking to?_  
  
There's only silence crackling through the comm. She speaks, her voice quiet. "You know that I'm not going to leave you, Vaughn."  
  
**Feelings I need, they don't matter  
You're just a breath away from me**  
  
"S'il vous plait. Allez. Allez-vous." _Please. Go. Go._  
  
There's a muffled cry as his voice gets distant and the angry voice comes blaring in her ear. "I have your partner."  
  
**The scene that we play doesn't change things  
It's still a crime scene we've made  
I've got angels crashing over my head  
Crying for the things that you said**  
  
She gulps, quietly. "Ich weiss." _I know._  
  
"Er wird sterben ob du nicht in fünf Minuten hier bist." _He will die if you aren't here in five minutes._  
  
**So how does it feel...to feel?  
So how does it feel...to feel?**  
  
She hears his voice in the background. "Don't come here! Do-"  
  
  
Silence.  
  
  
And Kendall's voice floods her head like the voice of God. "Agent Bristow, head to extraction point **now**."  
  
"What?"  
  
**I've got angels crashing over my head  
They keep crying for the things that you said  
Now that you're gone...**  
  
She's breathless. "You know I can't do that. I can't leave him here!"  
  
"Agent Bristow, believe that we have other competent agents. We will send out a team as soon as possible but we cannot do that until you are out of the area!"  
  
"No. No, that is not _acceptable_. We don't know what he wants, what he's going to do. Re-open the channel. I can talk to him, reason with him, get him to see a w-"  
  
"-That's enough. We know what he wants and what he's willing to do to get it back. You have it now. Go to the extraction point."  
  
**I've got angels crashing over my head  
They keep crying for the things that you said  
Now that you're gone...**  
  
She bites her lip.   
  
"We don't have surveillance anymore, Sydney. Head to the extraction point."   
  
  
Her father.   
  
  
"Dad… dad you _know_ I can't."  
  
"Sydney, listen to me. We don't have time. Kendall's right, what you have in your possession is the top priority right now. We need you back."  
  
  
And then she's running.  
  
  
There's no one in the hallways, no one patrolling the area. Her heart aches as her body hits the open air, the cold biting into her senses and numbing her, the icy air whipping across her face, her curled hair coming undone and slapping at her cheeks, her vision blurred by the tears.  
  
The grass yields under her footsteps, the moisture almost tangible through her feet.  
  
_vaughnvaughnvaughnvaughnvaughn_  
  
She takes a look back and the estate, glowing in the lights that surround the walls, looking at the darkened second floor, visualing Vaughn sitting there, wanting her to be running away. Wanting her to save him. Hating himself for wanting her there.  
  
**So how does it feel...to feel?  
So how does it feel...to feel?**  
  
The car speeds up the street, coming to an abrupt halt in front of her. She opens the door, sees the expectant face of Weiss in the driver's seat. "Get in!"  
  
There's a moment's hesitation before she shakes her head. "No."  
  
She puts the wrapped parcel under the passenger seat. "Tell my dad I'm sorry," she manages to say before she turns around and starts running back.  
  
The response she gets is distant. "Tell him yourself, I'd like to _keep_ my genitals thank you very much!"  
  
She'd smile under different circumstances.  
  
Turns her comm. back on. "Dad?"  
  
"Sydney… where the hell are you?"  
  
"Weiss has the SSG."  
  
"He's supposed to have _you_ too."  
  
"We can't get have everything we want."  
  
  
_"Sydney, you can't get everything you want."  
  
Her eyes narrow, confusion still raging throughout her body. "Vaughn, I'm not **asking** for everything I want. I'm just asking for **you**."  
  
There's a flash of something she can't quite define in his eyes. "Sydney… ask me for anything else and I'll give it to you," his eyes beg and plead with her. "Anything."  
  
"What **happened** in that hallway Vaughn?" Her voice is rising in intensity if not volume. The shadows of the warehouse have now become oppressive. "What happened that made you leave and come back a shadow of the person I knew before? What did they say to you? And how was it powerful enough to change you so much?"   
  
Tears are threatening to fall.  
  
"Sydney… you need to be in Cairo in less that 42 hours. We need to go over your counter mission."  
  
Her jaw clenches as she steps forward, pushing him against the wall with her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Vaughn, look at me."  
  
His gaze lifts to her forehead and down to her chin before settling in her nose.   
  
"Tell me you don't have any feelings for me."  
  
"Syd…"  
  
"**Tell me.**"  
  
Resignedly he looks up, sadness in his eyes. "I don't have feelings for you."  
  
She watches his eyes, looks at the emotions behind them and how fast he's blinking.   
  
And her heart aches a little less. "You're lying."_  
  
**The city we breathe isn't changing  
You're just a step away from home **  
  
_A small smile comes over her features- one of relief that comes from releasing a too-long-held breath. She leans her head on his shoulder, against his neck and breathes out. "God, Vaughn."  
  
She raises her head, an unspoken question in her eyes. "Don't do that to me."_  
  
**The life that we live doesn't matter  
If you don't find yourself leading your own**  
  
_"Syd…"  
  
But she's still caught up in her relief that he's lying. Doesn't realize that there had to be a reason for this deception.  
  
Lays a kiss on his neck._  
  
**I've got angels crashing over my head  
They're crying for the things that you said**  
  
_Her hands come on either side of his face and she lays her lips on his.  
  
It takes a minute for her to realize that he's not kissing back. She take a step backward, looking at him, watching as his hand come up to hers and pull them together and away from his face._  
  
**So how does it feel?  
To feel?**  
  
_"Agent Bristow. We need to go over the counter mission."_  
  
She shakes the memory out of her head, forces it to slip out of her conscious before she turns around for the car again.  
  
She reaches the outer wall, scales over it with little exertion and she's off again.   
  
Running.  
  
**'Cause I don't wanna come down  
I know it's almost too late  
Don't you wanna give in  
This time, it's okay**  
  
All the hallways look ominous and dark.   
  
There are no guards.  
  
And she realizes that it must be because they're all waiting for her.  
  
There's a hand over her mouth as she comes across the corner and the other arm comes to hold her waist. She feels the adrenaline rush through her body and she moves forward before kicking out hard behind her.   
  
Takes the hand that was on her face and snaps it backwards.  
  
And is out of the hearing distance before she can hear a moan.   
  
Walks calmly through the door as if she was invited.  
  
She looks at the scene, Vaughn on the ground, Jager two feet in front of him with a gun pointed in Vaughn's face.   
  
**I've got angels crashing over my head  
They keep crying for the things that you said  
Now that you're gone...**  
  
  
"Ah. I see you have decided to grace us with your presence."  
  
And then she's off, composure gone as she kicks the gun flying out of his hand. The arms of the guards come over her and she uses the hold to flip over so that she ends up behind them before delivering a sweeping kick that leaves them both on the ground.  
  
She seizes the guns out of their holsters and points them at Jager. "Untie him."  
  
There's a flash in his eyes. "That would be very convenient for you wouldn't it?"  
  
She lifts one of the guns so that it was aiming at a spot just above his head. "I'd really hate to destroy your little get-together, Herr Jager."  
  
"I couldn't care less, Frau Mendel," he says, smiling. "I was wondering when I would get to see for myself who you were. You weren't a familiar name on the guest list you see. And now I'm sure that I would have remembered you had I met you before."  
  
The gun trigger is pulled and there's an explosion ending in a bullet hole in the wall above his head. "Thank God for silencers."  
  
She keeps the guns trained on Jager. "Es-tu blessé?" _Are you hurt?_  
  
She hears Vaughn's voice on the right side of her. "Non."  
  
There's a smirk growing on Jager's face.   
  
"Why are you smiling?"  
  
"Warum sagst _du_ nicht _mir_?" _Why don't **you** tell **me**?_  
  
  
"**Sydney!**"  
  
  
  
  
And then there's blackness.  
  
  
  
  
  
CHA**T**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
tbc…  
more?


	28. Haven

**Hey you guys…**

**I just wanted to let you know that this might be the last chapter that I post here at fanfiction.net mainly because it's kinda tiring distributing everywhere and I'm just interpreting the drop in reviews to mean that people are losing interest.**

**Sorry if that makes me sound awful but junior year is kinda hectic and I just don't want to feel like I'm doing something for nothing.**

**I'm just letting you know… this is a *note*… please don't flame me or say other mean things because the only thing that that accomplishes is making me feel bad~ maybe I'm too sensitive but I don't like them ;)**

**Thanks,**

**Jenn******

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 24  
**Chapter Title**: Haven  
**Dedications**: alli, Lara, Mandy, Tricia, Kat, and Christine.  
**Archived**: CoverMe, FanFiction, SD-1, AllAlias  
**Distribution**: Sure~ just let me know so I can check in once in awhile  
**Foreign Languages**: French  
**Lyrics**: _In the Arms of an Angel_- Sarah McLachlan (I originally wasn't going to use any this time cue gasp but then this popped out at me and was just too perfect both musically and lyrically…  
  
24.  
  
Haven  
  
The room is damp and the shadows line up and spill over every crevice and crack there is, bathing everything in the darkness. Flourishing there.   
  
And the only sound is the rattle that comes from Sydney's throat as she breathes unsteadily, in and out. In and out. He sits at her side, conscious of the hard stone under him, around him, swallowing him up and threatening to do the same to her. He looks at her with a defeat in his eyes; he lives in a lose-lose situation.  
  
She rolls her head suddenly, a whimper escaping her lips, as soft as a breath. The bruise is purple on her temple, angry and taking over the right side of her face.   
  
"Oh, Syd." _Why didn't you leave? I told you to leave._  
  
But then again, he hadn't really believed that she would.   
  
With a sigh, he lifts himself up from the floor and slowly walks over to where her head is. Gently raises it off the floor and onto his lap. Tenderly wipes the sheen of sweat off her forehead with the pad of his thumb.   
  
"_Why_?"   
  
He looks down, startled at the soft question- more like breath than an actual word. Her brow is furrowed, and her lips are pursed, still sleeping, trapped in a nightmare. He tenderly sweeps the hair off her face. "you… leftme… _youleftme_."  
  
Freezes a minute as his hands come in contact with her clammy skin.   
  
_"Vaughn, I can see what you could have done in my head. See it like it's a memory. I just don't understand why you didn't **do** it.  
  
"Please leave."  
  
He turns around after a moment of looking at her stony and broken face. Wishing he could say the words to make her forgive him. Wishes he could make her understand.  
  
The cold air bites at his neck and cheeks as he steps outside, each step requiring an exertion of energy. It hurts him to walk away.  
  
But he does.  
  
Again._  
  
**_you are my haven  
always were  
always will be  
in your arms is where I feel safe  
where i am at home  
why can't you see that  
and find haven in me?_**  
  
He looks at her face, wave after wave of guilt engulfing him and taking him under. _God, Sydney. I love you so much.   
  
If only you knew._  
  
And then a swell of urgency comes over him like nothing else he has ever felt before as he looks into her pained face. Only Sydney Bristow can take him to such emotional depths. Only she can bring him so much happiness. So much pain.  
  
"Sydney…" His voice is hoarse with unuse but he doesn't care. He's not sure if she can hear him. Not sure if he wants her to be able to hear him. But the words are already spilling out of his mouth. "Why is it that we can never be rid of one another? No matter what happens… here we are. Again. To- together."   
  
His words are a cracked whisper, coming out of his mouth like an almost-deadened silence. He hesitates before leaning over slightly, laying a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry for making your life so much more horrible than it had to be. For making it worse when I could have been making it better. For hurting you when… when that's the _last_ thing I wanted to do."  
  
_I love you._  
  
He leans his head against the wall, his fingers still cupped around her chin, his eyes closed tightly in guilt.   
  
_"**Agent** Vaughn, may I see you outside for a moment?"  
  
Stressing the "Agent" as if that would remind him that there is a word called protocol. As if it would make him suddenly change his mind about what decisions he had made, what changes he had made to his life... what rulebooks he had thrown out the window.  
  
He looked over at her, seeing the slight look of fear run through her eyes. Smiling at her, he squeezed her hand with his. "I'll be right back."  
  
She nodded, and gave him a small nod back, full trust beaming through her eyes.   
  
He eased himself off the bed, out of her arms, missing the warmth of her body next to his like he would miss his own heartbeat.  
  
"What is it?"   
  
Deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew what was the matter. Knew in the deepest recesses of his heart what the problem was.   
  
And he didn't care.  
  
Looking into the man's face, he saw admonishment, warning, maybe even a little anger. But he could care less. He hadn't felt this in a long time… after two years of wishing he could have her, hoping that she felt the same way, praying to be allowed to love her… it was here. His destiny was no longer in some distant future… it was in that room.  
  
"What the **hell** do you think you're doing?"  
  
His brow furrowed. "What do you think I think I'm doing?"  
  
The man's face grew angry. "I just have one question, Agent Vaughn."  
  
_  
  
He opens his eyes, shaking the memory out of his head.   
  
Looks down into her face, sees her looking up into his.   
  
Doesn't know what to do… how she's going to act to this position… what she's going to say.   
  
But he's used to being speechless when she's looking at him.  
  
  
  
  
"Hey."  
  
**spend**** all your time waiting  
for that second chance  
for the break that will make it okay **  
  
She lifts herself off his lap.   
  
"Hi."   
  
She draws her knees close to her body, wrapping her arms around them.   
  
**there's**** always one reason  
to feel not good enough  
and it's hard at the end of the day **  
  
She eyes their surroundings, a shiver running through her tired body. "Where are we?"  
  
He shrugs. "Don't know."   
  
There's a pause.   
  
"I told you to leave," he says, giving her a slightly pointed glance, his lips twitching slightly.  
  
She smiles a little, shooting a glance up at the ceiling. "You didn't expect me too."  
  
**I need some distraction  
oh beautiful release  
memory seeps from my veins**  
  
"You're right."  
  
"I couldn't leave you."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm sorry it didn't work."  
  
"I know."  
  
They're both leaning against the wall, sitting side by side, not looking at the other. He can feel the warmth emanating from her body. She's so close.   
  
**let**** me be empty  
and weightless and maybe  
i'll find some peace tonight**  
  
But still so far away.  
  
**in**** the arms of an angel  
fly away from here**  
  
"Syd?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm glad we're here together."  
  
There's a slight stop in time as silence hangs in the air.  
  
"I know."  
  
**from**** this dark cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you feel**  
  
He feels the slight pressure of someone laying a head against his shoulder.  
  
**you**** were pulled from the wreckage   
of your silent reverie  
you're in the arms of an angel  
  
  
  
  
  
may you find some comfort there**  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****….  
More?**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
please review~!


	29. Shoot the Moon

!!!!

whoa… you guys… 

erm…

I think I have to say some stuff (lol)… I *never* meant to say in anyway that I was unhappy with the total number of reviews that I have for CHAT; I am surprised and honored and slightly incredulous that that many people have enjoyed my story. 

What I meant was that within the last three chapters or so, the number of people replying has dropped kinda drastically and I interpreted the drop (not the numbers themselves!) to mean that people were too busy to keep on reading or losing interest. Because "Chat" is posted at 3 or 4 other sites, I figured that if no one really cared whether or not it was posted at ff.net, then I could stop posting here.

I never meant to imply that I was ungrateful or review-hungry and I'm sorry if I made the impression. I just wanted to say that I'm kinda tired (lol) especially since this is my junior year and I'm taking 6 APs along with other extra-curricular activities. Judging from the response that I received… I guess you guys do read ;)

I'll be happy to continue posting "chat" here… I just wasn't sure if it was even being read anymore and so was deciding whether or not to cut ff.net out of distribution. 

Once again, I'm sorry if it came off as though I was review hungry or something… it's not that at all. I was just wondering about the drop in general and interpreted it to be something else that what it turned out to be. Sorry!

-Jenn

Questions, Answers, Comments:

**xanya**: I'm a junior in high-school; thanks for the compliments… and you'll soon find the solution to the "Vaughn puzzle" ;)

**Ashley:** I don't know if you still want an answer to your question since I'll probably keep posting here but I also distribute "Chat" at SD-1, there are currently the first 3 chapters of it at CoverMe (they now only accept completed stories), and there are 3 chapters of it at AllAlias (I just joined :-D)

**QueenAnne:** thanks… I'm definitely blushing ;)

**Jamie: **thanks for understanding… I'm sorry I never answered your question, I must have forgotten to or something… I'm not sure if I know the answer myself but I'm just guessing that someone probably hit Syd over the head with something from behind to knock her out?

**Liza:** blushing AGAIN!!!

**Nagenya**: ahahahahha, don't worry about it ;) Sometimes a "good job" is all someone needs to have a good day :-D

**SPOILER/TEASER for an *upcoming* chapter (NOT the next one… just a future one)**

"RUN!"  
  
And the voice shatters through everything until his vision is clear again and they're sprinting, cutting through the air and slicing the breeze. The bursts of color are a shock to his system- just as the feel of her fingers are around his arm, dragging him along.  
  
He's out of shape and it's hard.  
  
There's a vague muffle of sound coming at them from all sides, sound that doesn't even make sense to him anymore.  
  
And there's the dull ache the throbs at him in his side, but he can't pay attention to that either.  
  
He can only pay attention to her. Her touch, her gait... he can only stare at the feet in front of him. Ignore everything else.  
  
  
But then there's a succession of sounds.  
  
A single, ear-splitting shot through the air.  
  
The dull thud of a body hitting the floor.  
  
  
  
And then there was one.

**And FINALLY: the chapter**

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**: 25  
**Chapter Title**: Shoot the Moon  
**dedications**: Reverie, Jamie, xanya, valley-girl2, Jen, Screech, Kris, Catherine (Blue Moon)  
  
  
Shoot the Moon  
  
  
"So what now?"  
  
She turns her head to look at him, a question in her eyes. "What do you mean?"  
  
He returns her look, meets her eyes with his, a smile threatening to ignite. "How are you going to be able to stay in the same cell with someone you hate?"  
  
There's a soft thud as she turns away and leans her head back against the wall. "You know I don't hate you."  
  
_pauseofpuresilence_  
  
"I love you."  
  
It's a burst of spontaneity, an instinct that he follows with an abandon that he didn't know he had. He wouldn't have dared say that to her a month ago. But maybe the truth is what he needs. What they both need.  
  
Her eyes are closed, her head slightly shaking. "Vaughn, you _know_ better than anyone else how I feel about this. This isn't the place."  
  
But energy is running through his entire body now and he's kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his, not letting her take them away. "Then what is? What _is_, Sydney? It's not in public, it's not in private, it's not in a damn cell in who-knows-where… Syd, the _place_ doesn't matter. I love you _everywhere._"  
  
  
She takes her hands from his forcefully, opens her eyes so that they comes crashing into his own green-eyed gaze. And her reply is so soft that he has to make sure he hears it at first. But as it goes on, it heightens in intensity and by the time she's done, her words are the only things he _can_ hear. "Except in hospitals rooms? Except in hospital hallways? Except the Ops center and the warehouse and Olivera Street? Except in Naples and Paris and Moscow and Berlin? Except in every hotel room and bathroom and park bench that we _ever_ met in?"  
  
She takes a breath. "Don't try to touch me with pretty words, Vaughn. Not just because they almost work, not just because there are times when I want to believe you so bad that I'm willing to compromise everything I remember so that we can start again… but because they're not real."  
  
He sits back and watches as she closes her eyes again, tiredness spreading throughout her face. "Sydney, they're real. After everything we've been though, everything we've sacrificed and gained and wept over and fought for… you're the only thing worth staying for in this life. And the only thing I would give your love up for… is your presence."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"I'll _tell_ you." His eyes bore and melt into her own and she can hear his voice cracking with sorrow, with need, with a desperation that she hadn't been able to see before. He reclaims her hands in his, never breaking their gaze. "I'll _tell_ you Sydney. Everything you want to know. Everything you need to know… every thing I have to tell you."  
  
She's hit by the urgency of his brutal honesty, is unable to speak for a moment while she regains her composure.   
  
And then she slowly nods.   
  
"What I told you that night at your apartment was true," he looks at her again, "do you remember what I said?"  
  
_"That's where you're wrong, Syd. You think that I don't know… that I don't care. That because I hurt you, I must not feel anything at all. But Syd… what I did… it ruined my life as much as it hurt yours."_  
  
She heaves a little sigh and looks toward the ceiling. "You said that what you did… what you did to ruin my life ruined yours just as much."  
  
It pains him to hear how wooden her voice sounds.  
  
_"It's like snippets. Fragments. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
"Leaving you there in that room… it was the hardest thing that I ever had to do. The most selfish thing that I have ever had to do. Sydney, believe it or not, I need you. I need you like I need breath… the way that I need to have my heart keep pumping. To be able to see you everyday, to know that you're safe and within reach… even if I can't have you is essential to me. It's so ingrained, so deep within me that I don't even know if I can live without your smile and without your voice..."_  
  
"And… and you said that you needed me."  
  
She can't help the feeling that enters her voice right then, can't help the sharp sting of a tear as she feels it rising.  
  
"You said that just being able to see me every day and to know that I was safe was so important to you that you couldn't live without me."  
  
He nods, gulping slightly.  
  
"But you did. You have been. You left."  
  
He holds her hands tightly between his. "No, Syd. You don't understand. I meant _every word_ I said. Everything and more. I love you so much that my heart burns when I see you. So much that it breaks when I don't. And I can't _help it_ or _control it_ but God knows that if I could, I wouldn't. Because those feelings that I have… they tell me that I'm _alive_. And I can't _believe_ that I'm blessed enough to feel them."  
  
She wants to look away. Look away from the truth in his eyes, the pain in them.   
  
But she can't.   
  
"If you meant it… if you meant it, then why didn't you stay?"  
  
He takes in a shuddering breath, the sheen of tears evident in his own eyes. "Because. Because I would rather be allowed to see you every day as your handler and know that you are safe and well and… and _there_ than be sent somewhere where I could never see you again."  
  
The words come out with a rush.  
  
And it takes awhile for her wind to come back after it's been knocked out of her. "What?"  
  
"I said-"  
  
"- I _know_ what you said. Tell me what you _mean._"   
  
The tears are dangerously close to falling.  
  
"They said… _he_ said…  
_"Agent Vaughn, I just have one question"_  
… that he just had one question.  
_He looked up into the man's eyes. "Yes?"_  
And he told me that I had a choice.   
_"It's more of a choice than a question really. Just a simple choice. One word. That's all you have to say."_"  
  
  
Her eyes squint a little, looking at him. "You're… about to say something that's going to completely throw me into some shock. Something that's going to change everything. And it's going to make me forgive you and most likely love you again isn't it?"  
  
  
He fights a little smile. "I hope so. But I'm not sure."  
  
  
"What… what did he say?"  
  
  
"_ "Sydney Bristow? Or Fleury?"_  
He asked me, you or Fleury."  
  
  
"As in France?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Her brow furrows. "What does that mean?"  
  
  
"_"What does that mean?"_  
That's what I asked him. And he proceeded to tell me about Pierre Lergot.   
_"It means Handler Michael Vaughn. Or Pierre Lergot. Age 35, married, no children, living in Fleury, France. Occupation: Highschool Professor. English."  
"Married? Married to who?"  
"You have your pick of five very lovely ladies."_"  
  
  
His jaw clenches at the memory of the five CIA Agents who had been listed to him as possible spouses.  
  
He looks into her eyes. "I wasn't ever supposed to tell you."   
  
His voice is soft.  
  
And she has no response.  
  
"I couldn't leave. I know that I should have… and I know that that makes me selfish. But I _had_ to be selfish, Sydney. I can't even believe how much I need you… it's ridiculous for a person to need another person as much as I need you. But I have to see you everyday and I couldn't even stand the thought of you not knowing where I was- if I had left, if I had died… hurting you like that.  
  
I'd rather have you hate me than to live not knowing."  
  
"I wouldn't have believed it."  
  
"I know. But I was hoping… I was hoping that if I did leave, that you would have moved on."  
  
"I wouldn't have. I would have had faith. There is no rational thought when it comes down to things like these."  
  
"I know. And you would have found me. Sooner or later, you would have found me living in a house with another wife, maybe a kid… I knew that you wouldn't believe me if I left. I knew you wouldn't believe me if I stayed and pretended that nothing had ever come between us. And I hoped that you wouldn't. Even while I was hoping that you would."  
  
She's softly biting her bottom lip, her fingers reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "And why are you telling me now?"  
  
"Because look at us, Sydney. Look at how much I'm hurting you, how much I'm hurting myself. It's not worth it. I love you too much to let you go… and even if they take me away- if they ever find us-," he looks around the cell walls with a muted breath, "at least you'll know why."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc...  
  
more?  
  
  
the jenn-monster loves reviews...._especially quotey-ones_**


	30. Waiting Room

**Title**: Chat  
**Author**: Jenn  
**Chapter**:26  
**Chapter Title**: Waiting Room  
**Dedications:** Mooch, CryHope, sunnE1, Angel, Vulcan, Chateau, okelay, Tricia, OddShadowyEgg  
  
  
  
Waiting Room   
  
26.  
  
  
She's silent for a moment, looking only into his eyes with a sort of wonderment shining, mirrored in her own. "The Post-it." Her voice is a murmur.  
  
He nods, "The post-it." He lowers his head for a moment before bringing it back up. "God Sydney... It was so hard. So hard to look at you every day and not scream out the truth, so hard to speak to you when I saw the hate in your eyes and the confusion underlying every word that came out of your mouth."  
  
"And when I tried to kiss you in the warehouse-"  
  
"-that was the hardest of all, Sydney. How could I stop you? How could I stop myse-"  
  
He is silenced by her lips.   
  
  
Relief and gratitude flooding through his system, he closes his eyes, threading his fingers through her hair, needing to convince himself that this is real. That _she_ is real. That she is truly standing in front of him... and kissing him. That her lips are truly on his, her fingers equally as entwined as his in his hair.  
  
She tastes sweeter than he remembers, sweeter than he ever thought a person _could_ taste.  
  
It seems almost an eternity before they break the kiss and he looks at her face, flushed with happiness, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "You love me?"  
  
Her voice still carries a tinge of reservation.  
  
He hugs him to her, kissing her temple and whispering into her ear, "I love you. _So_ much."  
  
  
And then the door swings open, revealing a smirking Jager. "I see that we shall have to provide separate cells."  
  
They break apart, glowering at the man. "Was wollen sie von uns?" _What do you want of us?_  
  
"Es ist nicht was _ich_ wünsche. Es ist was ein andere Person wünscht." _It's not what **I** wish. It's what another person wishes._  
  
Vaughn's eyes narrow. "Und wer ist diese andere Person?" _And who is this other person?_  
  
Jager pulls a chair from just outside the door and sets it inside the cell, sitting in it and closing the door behind him. "Du wirst bald wissen." _You will soon find out._  
  
Sydney's jaw clenches in obstinacy. "Du wirst nicht für wem wir arbeiten finden." _You will never find out who we work for._  
  
Jager cocks his head slightly, an amused twinkle coming from the corner of his eyes. He speaks in English, the German accent piercing through the syllables. "You mean the CIA?"  
  
Her nerves shaking, Sydney stands up, Michael following suit, a worried glance showing in his eyes.   
  
The voice is calm, barely able to conceal the smirk that it holds underneath the layer of sickly-sweet melody. "Where is the SSG?"  
  
Eyes flashing, Sydney clenches her fists into tight balls. "If you know so damn much then why don't you tell me?"  
  
"Because I would rather extricate the information as soon as possible rather than use my own resources to find out information more easily taken elsewhere. Because I, unlike yourself, have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Because you stole something from me and I want it back. And because I hold your future, your happiness in my hands."  
  
And with that, he leaves, as suddenly as he came, the door clanging with a finality that confused both of them.   
  
But just as suddenly as the door closed, it reopens, this time by two men.  
  
~:~  
  
Vaughn's pulse quickens as the door swings open and a body is thrown back onto the stone tiles. Fists clenching, he somehow manages to refrain from speaking until they are alone again. He quickly makes his way to her, lifting her head off the floor and onto his lap, murmuring softly into her hear and hugging her close to him.   
  
She lays with her head cradled in his shoulder, the tears slowly seeping out of her eyes without a word and her arms slowly come around his neck. Her body trembles slightly with the aftershock and it is all he can do to keep the horror out of his eyes as he bends slowly to kiss her temple.  
  
"Sydney…. Sydney don't you dare give up on me," he whispers, his voice coming out a shaky tremor. He hugs her, probably tighter than he should, to him, needing to feel her skin against his so that he knows that this is real. That despite the circumstances, she is here and they are together. _"I love you, I love you, I love you… you're okay. You're okay…"_  
  
She whimpers slightly and burrows into his neck and he feels her wet skin make contact on his shoulder and his heart breaks for her. He stroked her hair until she is quiet.  
  
_How long can we stay here?_  
  
~:~  
  
They sit close, huddled together in a futile attempt to share the warmth that neither of them have. She has her head leaned against his now-weak shoulder, lips muttering inaudible sounds, eyelids quivering. He sits against the cold concrete wall for support, giving her all the energy he possesses and the energy he is trying accumulate by letting the wall take his weight, helping her stay in her more or less upright position.  
  
Both are shivering, uncomfortable. Both are unable to move into a different position because of the slow stiffening of their muscles and the pain that jars their senses and their perception of reality with every movement, every breath.  
  
And there is also a kind of security in the way that they are lending themselves to one another, a kind of admirable courage in the way both clench their jaws in an effort to keep their teeth from clattering. He wonders if he still has any control at all over his body and he cautiously wills his finger to move. Just a little.  
  
There is almost no expressing the utter helplessness that rolls over his features and floods into his eyes, drowning nearly all light; he cannot even reign over his own body, how can he give any sort of help to the woman leaning up against him? His whole body feels as if it is on fire from the ever-constant tingles that keep shooting up his spine, reminding him that his whole body is asleep.  
  
A chill takes over her body too and she involuntarily shudders, moving both their bodies in the process and awakening them from painful slumber with a clash of fireworks and the deepest aches of bone against atrophied muscle. She closes her eyes and tries to think, an attempt to at least keep her mind from immobilizing as the rest of her body has.  
  
_How long has it been since we arrived? One hundred and fifty four days.  
  
And how many hours is that? Three thousand six hundred ninety six hours.  
  
And minutes? Two hundred twenty one thousand seven hundred and sixty.  
  
Is that right? Carry the three and then the five and add four to eighteen…yes that's right.  
  
Seconds? Thirteen million three hundred and five thousand six hundred seconds.   
  
Six hundred and one.  
  
Six hundred and two.  
  
And three._  
  
She smiles slightly as she feels dry lips land on her chilled cheeks and stay there for a minute as if it is an attempt to bring heat somehow to her face.  
  
_Who is that man sitting behind me loving me the way he is? Michael C. Vaughn.  
  
How old is he? 34.  
  
When is his birthday? __November 27, 1969__.  
  
How many days ago was that?_  
  
She is tired now, doesn't have the will or the constitution to figure out how many days old Vaughn is, how many hours and minutes and seconds.  
  
She bites her lip in frustration. Just last week she was able to go through her entire family and Vaughn's and then add up their seconds of life despite their ever-changing status.  
  
Everything is wearing down.  
  
"Michael?" Her voice is cracked and uncertain from unuse and she hears Michael running his thirsty tongue over cracked lips as loud as thunder before answering. As if magnified by isolation. And despair.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Tell me a story." Even she is surprised at how pleading and childlike her voice is, what it has become. She has been reduced to a child… one asking another to help her survive. The weak leading the weak.  
  
She hears the unvoiced sadness that hangs in the air like a heavy curtain, dragging down on existence, pulling everything in its sphere with it. The strain of attempt followed by the suicidal darkness of failure.  
  
"Sydney… I'm sorry- I can't."  
  
She knows. She knows he can't and that he would is he could and she feels like she should beat herself for merely asking it of him. But that would require movement.  
  
"Do you know how many minutes we've been in here?"  
  
His slight smile makes a noise that echoes in the small cell, makes her willing to sell her soul for a tube of Chapstick. She knows that he has been doing this too.  
  
"Two hundred twenty one thousand seven hundred and sixty six."  
  
She grins back, pulling up every ounce of energy she has left to lift her head off his comforting shoulder, to lean it back against the wall. But the sudden emptiness she feels as a consequence for breaking their physical connection is worth it for now she is at his level, can see his face in all its agony, in all its love.   
  
"And forty one seconds."  
  
"Forty two."  
  
She laces her brittle fingers through his, closing her eyes for bittersweet darkness. "Forty three."  
  
His heart breaks as he watches her, looks at her sitting so close to him, breathing the same air as he has, sleeping the same dreams. His next words come out a whisper, as flimsy and nearly intangible as a feather but there all the same and the meaning that they carry solidify it to have weight. "I love you."  
  
Despite everything, despite their surroundings, their mistakes, their denials, they are in a situation where lies no longer work. And so the truth must come out. His eyes look trace her face, so thin and frail as it is now and he knows that his must be a reflection of that same hollowed bone structure screaming for nutrition.  
  
"Don't say it like it's a good bye." Despite her seemingly cold words, he hears the true meaning behind them, knows that she would say them back if she had the energy. If she knew for sure that she could love him that way she would want to love him; she invests so much time in the people and things she cares about, she's not about to go half-ass now.   
  
"It's not." He feels her fingers tighten a little around his own in an unasked for confirmation.   
  
He'd kiss her if he had the energy.  
  
The door opens suddenly, with a bang that seems deafening to their ears and they wince at the sudden eruption of light that has made it through into the dark and dank cell. There is a silhouette standing there, waiting, watching.  
  
The wait is over.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**tbc****…  
  
more?**  
  
  
there is no excuse for this chapter... i guess that's why i tried to shield it for so long... anyway, i apologize but i just can't get myself to change it so the best i can hope for is that you'll somehow forgive this chapter and hope for the best for the next one...

Please review~


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